The Road Back: Season One
by xxmagex
Summary: The story in The Road to Hell continues as Xander Harris comes to terms with his new status in the world and the world starts to come to terms with his role.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **The Road To Hell 2: The Road Back

**Author:** MPrattky

**E-mail:** XxMageX at aol dot com

**Disclaimer:** The Angel/Buffy the Vampire Slayer characters are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Sandollar, Kuzui, WB and UPN; no copyright infringement is intended, and not one red cent is being earned from this story

**Rating: **R

**Warnings: **Some violence and language are present, as well as mention of the events of September 11. Plus there are spoilers present for seasons 1-7 of BtVS and 1-5 of Angel

**Main characters: **Ensemble

**Setting: **Takes place initially during season 4 of BtVS/ season 1 of Angel, in an alternate universe established in the story "The Road To Hell", and progresses from there

**Pairings: **We'll see

**Classification:** Angel-Buffy Crossover, Action-Adventure, Angst, Alternate Universe

**Author's Thanks:** First off I want to thank Starway Man for letting me take up the story started in 'The Road To Hell'. I really appreciate it. I am also thankful for his acting as my beta reader for this series. In fact with all the input he has made to the story, he has been more of a co-author than a beta reader. Thank you very much for all the help.

**Author's Comments:** Feel free to leave feedback if you want. In fact, I encourage it. Let me know what you think. Got a plot bunny you want to suggest, drop me a line. I have a broad outline of how the story will proceed, but I welcome any ideas for along the way.

Also be forewarned, this fic will deal with events from the real world. Also from time to time, characters in this fic will say things off-color, mean-spirited and non-PC. Just letting you know all ahead of time.

**Author's Notes:** This fanfic is a sequel and continuation of the story 'The Road To Hell', by Starway Man. You can find it archived at either the XanderZone website (www. grandt XanderZone/ stories/ ?story = TheRoadToHell) or this site (www. fanfiction s/ 1146584/ 1/ The-Road-To-Hell) (you need to remove the spaces, of course). I strongly suggest, for the most enjoyable experience of reading this fic, that you go read that excellent story before reading this one.

**Summary: **Xander Harris has journeyed the road to Hell. Now he must face his hardest ever challenge – taking the long road back.

* * *

**Season One**

* * *

**Part One**

* * *

**San Francisco, California. November, 1999**

His head was majorly throbbing in pain. Xander Harris moaned softly, as he put his hand to his forehead. He kept his eyes tightly closed, hoping that might deaden the pain a little bit.

No such luck.

"My apologies for any pain you may be feeling, Mr. Harris. The toxin we used to incapacitate you has no serious long-term effects, but it does give you a rather nasty headache right after you wake up. I'm told it's kind of like having a hangover..."

Xander carefully opened his eyes and peered out, hoping to see where he was. The last thing he remembered was being in the bus station restaurant, then having a seizure of some kind; then el mucho pain, before the blackout.

Looking around, the son of two drunks saw that he was in a lounge of some kind. The young man could also tell he was in a high-rise apartment, just from looking out the window. It showed an impressive view of San Francisco's skyline.

The voice belonged to a middle-aged black woman, sitting across from him. Behind her, looking out the window was a middle-aged white man. The woman ignored his presence and continued talking, "The toxin simulates a seizure from epilepsy very convincingly. Unfortunately, it also dehydrates the body in the same way that drinking too much alcohol does. I would suggest you drink some water, that'll make you feel better." She indicated the pitcher of water on the table in front of Xander.

Harris shrugged and reached out for the pitcher, pouring himself a glass of water. He got the glass halfway up to his mouth, when it hit him.

She had definitely called him 'Harris'.

Xander took a drink to hide his discomfort. "I'm sorry, but you're telling me I was brought here against my will? Why is that?"

"Surely, Mr. Harris, you can't expect me to believe that you don't know why you're here? And you probably think that attempted mugging of you last week, was just happenstance..."

"Uh, you must have me mistaken with someone else. I'm not this Harris guy you're talking about!" Xander fought the impulse to ask the woman to not knock him Shirley.

As the captive talked the man walked along through the room, and he reached the point where he was behind Xander. The former Zeppo glanced behind him to check the dude out, and saw a door at the back of the room. Then he turned back to face the woman, his features neutral and expressionless.

The black woman responded, "It's true that the papers in your wallet identify you as one 'Alexander Hall' from Phoenix, Arizona. And I'm glad to see you learned the old trick that a good alias uses the first name of the person in hiding, so the name is responded to when someone calls out to you. You even have a bus ticket and passport in that name, I see..."

"But we all know that you're actually Alexander Lavelle Harris, better known as Xander Harris, formerly from Sunnydale California." Xander jumped a little bit, as the man behind him spoke up.

"I'm telling you that..." Xander started to stammer out in reply, when the man again cut him off.

"Oh, come on kid. Don't play games. You think we're the kind of people to play games with? Hell, you should be thankful it was *us* who caught up with you, and not someone else!"

The woman held up her hand to interrupt her companion. "What my associate means, in his own blunt way, is that we are basically operating with a much more gentle touch in this matter than...other parties who are interested in finding you."

{ Other parties? } Xander didn't like the sound of that. As far as his friends in Sunnydale knew, he was dead. So did the Watchers Council. Only the vampire with a soul called Angel knew he was still alive...

Xander just stayed silent, something he had learned both from dealing with his parents and being held captive as a slave. An old survivor's trick is never to draw attention to yourself, when living in fear of your life...

The woman continued, "Mr. Harris, please believe me when I say we don't mean you any harm. Our main objective is to ensure that those who seek to do our country harm do not exploit your situation. And if we can prevent certain hypothetical events from occurring? That's strictly a bonus to us."

Xander frowned. "I don't know what you're talking about, lady. I'm just a carpenter heading to Canada, to start a new job..."

The man walked in front of Xander, and dropped a folder on the table in front of him. "You may have changed your name, kid, but you haven't changed your fingerprints. Strictly speaking, that's real sloppy! Remember when your parents had you fingerprinted, during one of those kid safety programs back in the 1980s? We have the records. They match the ones of your hands, 100%. The positive ID came in just a few hours ago. Want me to prove it, here and now?"

Xander inwardly groaned, as he realized what the man was talking about. It hadn't been *his* parents, of course; it had been Willow's parents who had taken him, Willow and Jesse to get fingerprinted back in '87 at a school fair. Damn it, he had forgotten all about that.

The man continued, "We even triple-checked to be sure, while you were sleeping. There's no doubt, kid. Alexander Harris didn't die at the Sunnydale High School gas explosion last May. He's sitting here in front of me, breathing and everything."

Xander thought for a long pause. He considered making a break for it right then and there. He could probably get to the door, and from there somehow to the outside...

"Forget it, kid. You wouldn't get past me; I've been doing this sorta thing long enough I can take you - no matter if you do got some soldier memories, or the hyena possession thing going. Plus, even if by some miracle you got outta this room, you think you can deal with my men waiting out there in the corridor? All of them are professionals, and have orders not to let you leave here..." the man said, correctly guessing what Xander was thinking.

The woman spoke up, glaring at her colleague, "No one here wants you hurt, let me just reiterate that. But the point is, even if you got away from us, all you would accomplish is make a target of yourself for the more nasty people out there. By the way - you were right to suspect that the Watchers Council had sent a retrieval team for you, back in May. And you don't even want to know what the others would do to you..."

"Who are you guys?" Xander managed to croak out, as obviously these people knew too much about him to continue to try bluffing.

The man answered him, "I'm sure you paid attention to some things in high school, kid. You remember that stuff with Pearl Harbor? That kind of thing, getting caught with its pants down - it can cripple a government for years afterwards. It makes a man like me want to make damn *sure* that sorta crap never happens again..."

The woman continued, "Various government agencies wanted to make certain that, after World War 2 was over, the United States wouldn't get blindsided that way ever again. Something of a new group was organized to make sure that World War 3 didn't start the same way for our country. The best of the CIA, FBI, NSA, U.S. military intelligence, Special Forces and the like were forwarded to this group."

Xander was about to interrupt, but she kept going. "Their mandate was to make sure the Russians didn't get the jump on us. But my point is, the group stayed hidden. For years, too, making sure that the Soviets never got in a position to kick off World War 3 in a big way. They stopped the Russians from smuggling A-bombs into the country on more than one occasion. But over time, it became obvious that there were other threats. Other countries to worry about."

The man took up the monologue then. "Then in the late Sixties, something came up that really scared the shit outta the bigwigs in the government. The ragheads..."

The woman stole a glare at the man, at the use of that term. He continued, not paying her the slightest bit of attention. "Their blowing up planes, and the like. They may have concentrated mostly on El Al, but we knew it was only a matter of time before it was our turn. So, we changed targets. There were enough groups out there watching the Russkies, that we felt secure in going after the terrorists instead. And just for the record? We're damn good at what we do."

The woman took a drink of water herself, and took over after the man shut up, "We're also aware of other, more...unconventional threats. Vampires, demons, all the things that go bump in the night and stranger things. Not our department, of course," she shrugged. "But sometimes, we dealt with them. Other times, we just left them to those whose sole purpose it was to fight them."

"Like that Slayer of yours, and the Watchers Council," the man said succinctly.

"You were behind the Initiative," Xander said unthinkingly, with growing horror.

"Hell no, kid. Those grunts were too stupid to know how to stake a bloodsucker, even after watching 'Dracula' as a training video, and the lab coats - especially the evil bitch Monster of Death - were too unbalanced for our liking. Besides, we exist in *complete* secrecy. They were probably headed for a spectacular coming-out party. We opposed it every step of the way..."

The woman nodded in agreement. "Unfortunately, we were losing the bureaucratic fight over that. Well, but politics is an ugly business. It looked like the Initiative would come into being; then something happened. Or more accurately, *you* happened."

The man threw a videotape down onto the table, in front of Xander. "Were you to watch that tape, you would see Professor Maggie Walsh's last moments on this mortal coil. And more importantly, we would see you make a *very* special guest appearance in her life."

Xander stared at the man, knowing what would come next. The secret agent nodded, "We had her under surveillance, yeah. We had just been ordered to withdraw it by the higher-ups, when you took her out of the picture." He smiled nastily, "And at first, everyone thought you had done it for us. Took quite a bit of doing to convince the big shots otherwise, let me tell you..."

The woman said earnestly, "So, we started digging into you. In certain circles, you've become quite a celebrity during the last year or so."

"Why's that?" Xander felt the need to say something, as opposed to just sitting there.

The lady shrugged. "Mr. Harris - despite its pretensions, the Watchers Council is not as powerful or security-minded as it believes itself to be. Over the years several groups have infiltrated the Council for their own reasons, ourselves among them."

Her colleague clarified, "For a while there, kid, the writings of that idiot wimp Wyndham-Pryce? They were probably one of the most closely read documents on the planet. Because of you. And we're talking at the highest levels of government. People who ignore the President if they have to."

The woman added, "The details you gave him were sparse, granted, but your very existence even - that was enough to cause anxiety in many centers of power, all around the globe. The reports we got were censored from within the Council, before we read them. But still, they were more than enough to panic us all."

"Yeah, especially that comment about a witch trying to destroy the planet. *That* really got everyone's attention."

{ Oh shit, they know about Willow going all crazy in the near future. } Xander suddenly felt afraid for the Scoobies; after all, what would these people do with that knowledge?

The woman continued on, "We really started looking at you, then. Someone who had detailed prescient knowledge, of the next four years? Let's be honest; it was far too juicy, for everyone who was anyone to possibly leave alone. Combine that with what you did back in April, and we *really* got interested in you! We all asked ourselves - why would someone, knowing what would happen over the next four years, kill Maggie Walsh? We didn't know the exact answer, but could hazard a guess..."

She leaned over poured herself a glass of water from the table and took another drink from it, as the man started talking again. The two of them were doing a pretty good job of tag-teaming Xander...

"'Course, we then found the other bodies. Warren Mears, Ben Maxwell. You...dealt with them. Decently professional job by you and the vampire, granted, but you don't get to where I am in life without knowing what's what. Smart money's saying you headed off some major events, by removing them from the playing field. 'Course, you know what I'm about to ask now, don't you?"

Xander looked up, with a sinking feeling in his stomach. { Oh no... }

The man said firmly, "Worst case scenario. Do we need to make similar arrangements, to remove a witch from the world?"

"No! Don't you dare!" Xander yelled.

The man raised an eyebrow at Xander's outburst. "Mr. Harris, our job is to deal with threats to the security of the United States. The end of the world would qualify."

The woman looked sympathetically at Xander. "We suspected that you'd already taken all the necessary steps before leaving your hometown, but the stakes are so high...you must understand - we *have* to be sure." She had a questioning look on her face.

Xander fought an internal battle with himself. He really wanted to try and convince them they were wrong. That he was just a poor carpenter, who was on his way to Canada to make a buck.

But he knew they wouldn't believe it. More importantly, they were worried over Willow. He had no doubts about how they knew who the witch was, that was going to try and destroy the world. How hard would it be to figure out what witches he'd hung out with?

Xander looked at the duo. The man had gone back to looking out at the skyline. The woman regarded him with a hopeful look. That look told him that they didn't *want* to do it. They were hoping he had resolved the situation already, but if they hadn't they were ready to step in and deal.

The so-called teenager knew that they had to be satisfied. But he also knew if he told them what they wanted to hear; he had no more hope of talking himself out of their company.

Was he willing to do that to Willow, and the others? After all, they had left him to die outside the Bronze that night, for lying to Buffy about that mess with Acathla. If not for Angel, he would literally have become vamp chowder.

But Xander then remembered what Angel had told him afterwards; 'secrets have a way of coming out.'

Sometimes, hiding stuff just led to worse problems further down the line.

So Harris said curtly, "It's taken care of. Warren Mears, he was the trigger for what you people are afraid of. With him gone, the threat potential and the reason for trying to end the world are also gone. Fact is, she only got that power to go after him."

The man turned around from the window, and looked at Xander, nodding with a half-smile on his face. The woman had a full smile on her face. "I am *very* relieved to hear that. Just because we'll do what is necessary, doesn't mean we enjoy it."

"Still, we have to ask if there's anything else out there we need to know about, ya know?" The man came over and sat down in a chair next to Xander.

Xander just looked at him impassively, also knowing where this was heading. { Screw you, asshole. }

The man just said, "Kid, I promise you, we're not looking for winning lottery numbers or hot stock market tips! We're beyond that garbage. We're looking to make sure that terrorists don't drop a nuke on New York City, or spread some killer virus all over the U.S.! India and Pakistan ain't gonna start lobbing nukes at each other on my watch, and neither is there gonna be a worldwide famine because some loopy lab coat goofs on his laboratory safety protocols..."

Xander tensed a little bit; just a little. He didn't know if they had caught it, at the mention of New York City and terrorists. But then, those 4 1/2 years in a hell dimension because of the vampires Spike and Drusilla had taught him how to hide his thoughts and feelings well, when he needed to.

The man leaned back. "Of course, I also want to know if the Braves win the next World Series. That's the most important thing! We can talk about the end of the world stuff after that."

The woman stabbed the man with a slight look of exasperation. "What say we give Mr. Harris some time to think it all over? As we do have some business to attend to, that is unrelated to all this..."

She turned to Xander. "You must be starving. After all, you were unconscious for almost a whole day! I'll arrange for some dinner to be brought in to you. I'm told the kitchen is quite good here. Some steak, perhaps?"

* * *

Later, the man and woman were in another room, looking at a monitor that showed Xander eating in the lounge. The duo was amazed at his appetite, if nothing else.

"You noticed how he tensed up at the mention of New York and terrorists?" the man suddenly asked.

"I wondered if you had caught that."

"Almost didn't, he's damn good at hiding things. Probably slipped up, only 'cause we hit him hard and fast with too much, too soon, while he was still disoriented. But that's always just a one-time event; no way we can ever count on that again."

"I agree."

The man looked speculative. "Just between us, I think against anyone else? His tensing up would've gone unnoticed. And the only reason he even confirmed his real ID was 'cause he was worried over Ms. Rosenberg, or Ms. Madison. For the record, my money's still on the Rosenberg girl being the über-witch..."

The woman nodded. "Most probably true, since Ms. Madison is still missing. Still, thankfully that's no longer an issue. Oh, by the way - what's the latest with that 'mugging'?" The quotation marks could be heard around the woman's remarks.

"Yeah, still looking into that. We identified at least two of the perps as stringers working for the French SDECE..." The man then looked angry, "Jesus, but this could wind up being just like the mess back in the early 1940s, over that stupid race with the atomic bomb! Intelligence agencies tripping over themselves. Rogue agents trying to sell secrets to the highest bidder."

"Not to mention the Watchers Council."

The man sighed. "I know, I *really* wish they weren't in the mix. Normally, I got no problem trusting the Brits; but the Watchers are so deep in bed with the cousins these days, we gotta be real careful what we tell 'em."

"And that California law firm?"

He shrugged again. "Having trouble getting a fix on them. Normally, they're not a player in our particular game. They're more into the weird stuff."

"Which, unfortunately, is a category Mr. Harris falls directly under."

"Too true..."

* * *

**Two hours later**

Xander leaned back on the couch, watching the television in the apartment. He had finished up the meal they had brought him, about a, hour or so before. Now, the young man was just waiting for the man and woman to return.

Harris thought about trying to get some sleep, but decided against it. Sleeping when the others, as he had taken to calling his captors, were hanging around somewhere nearby didn't seem like a good idea. So he just sat there, and watched the TV screen.

And thought about his situation.

His captors obviously knew what they were doing. When they had come in to clear away the dishes from his meal, it had taken three people to do it. Two to actually gather up everything, while the third watched him. They had made a point of accounting for every single piece of silverware, too. They were on guard for Xander to try something, anything...

The former Soldier Guy sighed. Even if he managed to get away from them, their statements to him had made it clear that the only result would be that he would become a target for everyone else out there. The Watchers Council for sure, and some nebulous others also.

Xander wondered idly who said others were. Several ideas ran through his head. The image of a leather-coated Gestapo agent from an old World War 2 movie figured most prominently in his thoughts, even if he felt ridiculous to contemplate it.

Still, he knew in his gut that the others might not even be as nice as the Gestapo had been. The former class clown knew enough about the world now to understand that some groups didn't play by the clean rules, as the man in the street understood them. Xander seriously wondered who would be harsher; the demons who had kept him prisoner for nearly five years; or the men in black who were looking for him...

The 23-year-old man then shuddered, when he realized that the demons were constrained somewhat by not wanting to hurt someone so much that they couldn't work. The people looking for him now wouldn't have that restraint. They would just want him to talk. Anything else wouldn't concern them.

He remembered that old TV show about the Fugitive, looking for the one-armed man to clear his name. But Xander didn't have a one-armed man out there, to eventually stop the suits from chasing him. { Although I wound up being a one-eyed man in the future. I wonder if that counts? }

Maybe if he escaped and disappeared, and somehow made it to 2003 alone in the Canadian mountains, when his knowledge would be useless...

Of course, that was no guarantee that some Initiative wannabe wouldn't eventually snatch him up anyway to see if his brain ticked differently, due to all the tinkering done up there by Willow.

The television flickered as the program he was watching ended, and the early news came on. But he ignored it, and thought some more. If these people knew about Willow, did the other people looking for him know too? Would they go after her? What should he do?

Xander found himself arguing the point with himself. The memories from the first version of history rebelled at the thought of not doing something to help her. After all, it was Willow. The yin to his yang. The yellow crayon girl, who along with his then-best friend Jesse had kept him sane throughout an...ugly childhood. He had to do *something* to protect her...

But the memories from the second version of reality whispered very differently. Willow had basically left him for dead, so as to curry favor with Buffy. She had thrown all the tattered fragments of their friendship away that night on that sidewalk. Then she'd made it worse by sending him to that hell dimension, however hypnotized she'd been by that damn nutcase Dru...

Then the redhead had cursed him with all these memories in his head. These never-to-be-sufficiently-damned potentially aneurysm-causing memories, which made him a target. Made him walk around with a huge neon light above his head, blinking out the words 'FUTURE BOY'. What did he really owe her? What did he owe any of them?

God help him, but the second voice whispered fervently to let them all be thrown to the wolves. They'd willingly bought their own ticket into this chamber of horrors, and paid a full fare. So let them reap the consequences of their actions, let them learn what it was like to live in fear...

Common sense told him to run for it, at the first opportunity. What was the worst that could happen? He could get himself killed? Sometimes, that seemed like an act of mercy. He could vanish into the night, avoid everyone...

Xander thought for a second. And the ghost of the Soldier Guy he had once been said firmly in his brain, { Unacceptable. No win scenario. Another alternative required. }

If he ran, someone somewhere would catch him at some point. Evaluating the possibilities, Xander suspected that the treatment he had received here so far would be the best he could hope for in his life.

And besides, he was still Xander Harris, even if he wasn't a PFC with that Vietnam-era serial number anymore. He knew what was coming...

The ridiculous Y2K hysteria. September 11. The Bali bombing of 2002. The second war against Saddam Hussein, during 2003. And of course, the First Evil...

Now obviously something, and his money was on the First, had changed history in a big way. Otherwise, he would be banging his girlfriend Anya in his Sunnydale basement apartment right about now, instead of being someone's 'guest' here in San Francisco.

Despite his time-delayed letter, Xander wasn't sure of the chances of the Scoobies and the potential Slayers stopping the First Evil now that history had been played with. Was he really going to risk that out of spite? { Am I going to do the same thing I condemned Buffy, Willow and Cordelia for? }

At that moment, the door to the lounge opened up and the woman walked back in. "Where's the other guy?" Xander asked her.

"He's finishing up with our other guests."

Xander chuckled to himself. "You let him talk to other people without you, lady? He's got quite a bark."

The woman walked over and sat down on the chair, next to the couch where Xander was sitting. She also turned the TV off as she walked by it. "His bark's worse than his bite, to be absolutely honest. It's when he's not barking that you really have to watch out for him. Besides, he speaks fluent Japanese."

"Japanese?"

"Yes, our counterparts from the Land of the Rising Sun paid us a visit. They had some things they wanted to talk about."

"Such as." Xander didn't expect an answer, and was surprised when he got one.

"Two things; first, North Korea. All those nukes nestled right next door to their home unnerves them more than a little bit. Secondly, they've heard rumors about you. They were...curious."

"Interesting. Do they-?"

"Know that you're here?" The woman shook her head "No, even though we're allies with them, we're not ready to share that knowledge with them yet. They'll be told what they need to know, when they need to know it."

Xander remembered back to his earlier conversation with the woman. "Who else?" She looked at him questioningly. "Who else knows about me, and might be looking for me?"

She shrugged. "Quite a few people, actually. The Watchers Council, obviously. Us, the CIA, NSA, MI-6, the French, Russians, Israelis, Chinese, Poles, Germans, the Vatican, the Indians, Aussies, Wolfram & Hart-"

Xander got a strange look on his face. "Who?"

"A...special law firm in Los Angeles, who handles legal matters for demons and the like. Your old vampire acquaintance and his friends Doyle and Cordelia Chase have already made themselves their sworn enemy, by the way..."

"Doyle? You mean that half-breed demon I met who sent me to Sunnydale on a mission for the Powers That Be, earlier this year? Deadboy's working with him, to fight the good fight?"

"Yes, quite so." She mentally noted down the reference to the Powers That Be for future investigation.

Xander contemplated that for a moment, as she went on, "There also seem to be several demon factions and cults that know about you. And for some odd reason, the Mormon Church." She shrugged at Xander's look of incomprehension. "I know, it makes no sense at all; but somehow, they know."

"So many," Xander observed quietly.

"It started out small. A few groups learned about you from the Council, just as we did. But these groups had moles or people willing to sell the information for the right price, and it all just spiraled out of control from there..."

"Then I'm just surprised my face hasn't shown up on the _National Enquirer_, or Sixty Minutes or something."

"Oh, don't worry about that. I doubt knowledge of your existence will spread now much beyond those who already know. There are only a certain number of people who can get access to this kind of secret, and I'd say we've more-or-less reached that number already." She indicated where the plates had been on the table. "You get enough to eat?"

Xander regarded her impassively. "Yeah, I'm not going to start up with that epilepsy thing again, am I?"

"No, nothing of the sort. You're already here, and we want to talk."

"Probably pointless to ask, but why didn't you just come up and talk to me instead of shanghaiing me like that?"

"Now, please! You know as well as I do, that you would've bolted at the first hint that we knew who you were. Why go through all the trouble of finding you, and not be able to talk to you for more than a minute? This conversation needed to be conducted in a controlled setting."

"Says you. How did you find me, anyway?" Xander had given up all pretense of hiding who he really was now.

"There are only so many people in Los Angeles, who can prepare a new identity for someone. We know all of them, and can be...persuasive when the need arises. Once that was done, it was a simple matter to just throw out a net for you."

"You knew I went to LA?"

"It's where the vampire went. We suspected you would have some connection to him."

Xander nodded. It was too bad he hadn't been able to stay there; but Cordelia had been on her way to Los Angeles, and destined to meet and then go to work for Angel. He remembered that much, and since she thought he was dead...

The thing was even though Xander thought he could be around her without having the goddamn headaches, since he hadn't dealt with his ex since Graduation and there weren't any conflicting memories, he still didn't want her to know about him.

Because if *she* found out, how long would it be before the others found out also? Buffy had gone to LA to visit Angel a couple of times in the future he remembered, and she would probably do so at least once in this upcoming one. { That reminds me, Angel was expecting me to check in with him today using my fake name. He must be getting worried by now... } "So, what now?"

"Well, first off you stay with us." She held up her hand to head off Xander's interruption. "You have to understand the situation. You can't just wander around like a target out there, as all the people looking zero in on you! A single person alone would almost have no chance against all the resources all those groups can bring to bear. So unless you crawled into a cave and stayed there for the next four years, as most likely you were planning to do, they'll find you. And we cannot let that happen."

"That's not your decision to make," Xander crossed her arms and glared at her.

She frowned at him. "We made it ours. If someone is able to use what's in your head to influence events to this country's detriment, the consequences could be...disturbing. Possibly catastrophic. Put yourself in my place; how could you justify risking it?"

Xander sneered, "I shoulda known you'd play that card, eventually. Look, do you want to hear my impressions of all this, so far?" She nodded. "Fine. You all see yourselves as a collection of noble good guys handling a damned useful if dangerous commodity, one that might save the world someday if used properly. But what I see is a bunch of monkeys playing with matchsticks, in a dark room filled with explosives."

"That's not-"

"Shut up and lemme finish! I'm assuming all this is being taped, so consider it also a message for your bosses. You probably know I told Wesley there are at least half a dozen apocalypse scenarios coming up, within the next four years. And you're thinking to yourself, why not make him give us all the details?"

Xander snorted. "Except I won't do that, unless you strap me down and hit me with the chemicals. It's too dangerous - I KNOW. But you'd justify it to yourselves that forewarned is forearmed; you'll save a lot of lives that need not be lost, that sort of thing. But tell me, what if for example one of your soldiers charges into the wrong place at the wrong time, and some kid accidentally gets caught in the crossfire? Someone who - oh, I dunno - was destined to become President and save the world from nuclear war, except that now he's dead?"

The woman was unable to look him in the eye, as that was a very real fear for every scientist within every group that was in the know. "Well, be that as it may, you have to stay somewhere where you'll be safe. And your best bet is with us. I promise that *we* at least won't use the chemicals."

"A prisoner?" Xander kept his arms folded as he still glared at her.

"Think of it as a honored guest," the man said as entered the lounge. "And it's nice to know you at least have a brain, pal. Interesting speech, by the way."

"Thanks. Glad you liked it."

"'Course, it was more than a little hypocritical for you to make it." He folded his arms and looked at Xander.

"Hypocritical?"

"Yeah, kid. It's a big word, meaning the pot calling the kettle black! That kinda talk was pretty rich, coming from the guy who's already has changed history. Three bodies getting colder, before their time. That was your doing, remember? For all you know, one of them may have found a cure for cancer or hooked up the parents of the next generation's greatest rock star. But we won't know now, will we? You put us all in virgin territory, and not the good kind either."

Xander snarled back at the man, "Don't *ever* try to second-guess me or my actions, or speak about things you know next to nothing about! Nothing like a cancer cure was ever coming from those three, and none of them ever lived beyond 2003 anyway..."

The woman looked at the man, interjecting herself in the conversation to calm things down. "Our other guests are taken care of?"

"Bet your ass they are. Within the hour, they'll be winging their way back home. They seemed a little disappointed that I couldn't go out and down a few sakis with 'em..."

He held up his hands, at the new glare the woman sent him. "I know, I know, this is San Francisco and not Tokyo or Okinawa. Bar room brawls lead to the police being called, which leads to unwelcome attention and all that crap." He sat down next to Xander, muttering as he did so, "Things really are so much damn easier overseas..."

The woman continued to Xander, "We'll make you as comfortable as possible, and make sure you're not as much of a target as before. The CIA and NSA, for example, we can make back off quite easily. Some of the others, like the Aussies and the Poles, trust us enough that they'll be satisfied with that. The others, well...we'll be on guard. We've done this type of thing before quite successfully..."

"And I have no choice in the matter?" Xander asked petulantly.

"There are always choices, Harris. How successful those choices are, is another thing entirely. You can choose to make the best out of this situation that you can, or you can just make it that much harder on yourself!" the man snapped at Xander

Xander glared at him. He didn't like the man, even beyond the fact he was one of the people holding him captive. He had more than a trace of Buffy's annoying 'I am the law' attitude..."You can't stop me from trying to escape."

"Actually, we can. There's nothing requiring us to keep you awake, you know. Worst case scenario for you, we just keep you sedated for the next five years; feed you with an I.V. tube, while you really catch up on your Z's."

"Cleburne..." The woman hissed at the man. "Will you turn off the act for a moment?"

The man seemed to think for a second, and shrugged his shoulders. He leaned forward, folding his hands in his lap, his demeanor relaxing as he did.

"Look, kid, we'll do what we have to. Just like you did, when you killed those three people. We would be remiss in the duty we've sworn to uphold, if we did anything less. The threat of you being exploited by hostile powers is just too great to risk," the man, Cleburne, said in a calm voice.

Xander was surprised. The heavy had actually seemed to tone it down a bit.

The woman started talking, "We would want to avoid such a thing; although in the past, circumstances have compelled us to...well, never mind that now..."

Cleburne leaned back with a thoughtful look on his face. "About five years ago, there was this kid in Peru. Got messed up to the point where he could read minds. Couldn't turn it off, either; every time he was near someone, he knew exactly what they were thinking. Almost drove him nuts..."

A sigh. "As you can imagine, that parlor trick was quite sought after. We tried to help him, but to no avail. In the end, all we could do was sedate the little guy so that the voices wouldn't drive him completely insane. He's still at a clinic in Virginia right now, sleeping peacefully with no more secrets in his head."

"Cleburne!" the women hissed in alarm at the man.

He looked at her. "You told me to drop the act, so I did. No point in trying to sugarcoat this crap, it's just an insult to Harris anyway if you try. We're asking him to trust us. The least we can do is trust him right back." He turned towards Xander and held out his hand. "Name's Joshua Cleburne."

Xander was briefly surprised. Then his guard went right back up; he recognized the old good cop, bad cop routine. { Normally, you don't see both the good and bad cop in the same person... }

Cleburne noticed Xander's hesitation. "Kid, I'm not asking you to marry me or anything. As I don't swing that way! I'm just introducing myself." The earlier coarseness of the man crept back into his voice.

Xander reached over and shook his hand. "You already know my name, and I still don't like you."

Cleburne chuckled. "Fine, I'm not in this business to be Mr. Popularity. Just to get the job done."

The woman looked at Cleburne. "You know, every once in a while you do something noble, and it just throws me for a loop..." She leaned across the table, extending her own hand. "Mrs. Esther Marcum."

Cleburne snorted, as Xander shook Marcum's hand. "Well, just don't tell anyone about me being noble. How would it look to bin Laden if he finds out I can be a nice guy at times?"

Xander couldn't help it; he tensed just a little bit at the mention of that name. Cleburne noticed it, of course; after all, he had been looking for such a reaction when he'd mentioned the guy's moniker.

Marcum leaned forward. "Mr. Harris. Do we have an agreement as to you remaining with us willingly?"

Xander stifled a laugh. They really didn't need his agreement. Still, they wanted it. He could try to escape, but what would it get him? A life on the run. No friends, no support base, just waiting for the inevitable knock on the door that would start the torment of people tearing apart his memories, to learn the shape of things to come.

No choice, really.

"Tell me something. Do these 'others'..." he referred to the other agencies who knew about him, "...know about the witch and the situation in Sunnydale?"

"Some do, yeah. The Watchers Council obviously knows everything. Some only know bits and pieces. Only the Watchers and ourselves are really in a position to put names and faces to the information."

"Still, it's possible others could figure out who to target?"

Marcum and Cleburne exchanged a look. "Yes, I imagine someone could put together enough things to mount an operation to do so," the woman said slowly.

Xander's two separate inner voices warred for a few seconds over what was coming next. The scraps remaining from the Hyena possession whispered to him, { Protect the pack. } That, in the end, tipped the former slave into going with his instincts; as they were now the only things which had kept him alive, for 23 years.

He said to the duo, "You want an agreement, then the people in Sunnydale are to be protected but not interfered with. In ANY way, shape or form! This is not negotiable. They're important; and besides that shouldn't be targeted, because of something they don't even know."

Marcum frowned. "That may not be easy as you think. We can't let them in on the secret..." she trailed off as Cleburne caught her eye.

"Yeah, I think maybe I have a solution for that one. Lemke's been wanting to get out of field operations. Says he's too old for it, and wants to settle down with that CPA he's been dating."

"Isn't Lemke younger than you?" Marcum asked, with a barely hidden grin on her features.

Cleburne made a face, but kept right on going. "The CPA is from California, and wants to move back home. I think Sunnydale is a place where she could open up a new office. Lemke could open a bookstore or something as well. Put that knowledge of literature of his to good use. At the same time, he can keep an eye out..."

Cleburne looked at the face Xander was making. "Kid, we can't give them 24/7 protection if that's what you're asking for. Other than dragging them to Langley, Virginia and sticking them into a safehouse, it's just not possible. We all know that, so just accept it. Besides, from everything I've read, they can take care of themselves. Lemke can call in the cavalry for anything that looks like it's gonna get out of hand..."

Xander nodded. "All right, I'll agree to that."

Seeing that Xander was relaxing, Cleburne asked the next question to knock him off-balance. "So kid, how many people did bin Laden kill when he hit New York?"

Xander's head snapped around, as he looked at Cleburne. The military conditioning for a moment failed him; the comment had the desired reaction from the target for a second, till Xander's face returned to its impassive state.

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

"Kid, you tensed up earlier when I mentioned New York being nuked, and also a few seconds ago when I mentioned the raghead's name. Two and two does equal four."

Marcum piped up, softening up Cleburne's harsh edges. "As far as I can tell, Mr. Harris, it seems that the situation is the same here as when you took out Walsh, Mears and Maxwell. We can stop whatever Osama bin Laden is planning, the same way you stopped their plans, with a similar surgical strike - can't we?"

This one was easier for Xander to decide. { What's the difference between those terrorists, and the people I killed? Not much, really. } As he came to a decision, images of the final battle with the First Evil came to mind. That had to be dealt with also.

"I'm gonna need your help, in exchange for my help on your problem."

"Go on," Marcum leaned forward.

"Four years from now, an evil older than either of you can possibly imagine tries to destroy this world. I've not been able to head that off. The only thing that was standing in its way was a small group in Sunnydale, that was mostly made up of teenage girls. And, funny thing; I've noticed some changes in the world events leading up to that, beyond what I've done personally. Bottom line; someone else is messing with history, as you know it."

At that, both Marcum and Cleburne stirred with looks of concern on their faces. "Holy shit," the male secret agent said succinctly. Even he hadn't been expecting this.

"In my original memories, we barely stopped it. And even then, it was at great personal cost..." Xander paused as he remembered Anya. His soul mate, and the woman he had also hurt so much.

Of all the people he had left behind, she was the only one that was truly forever lost; as Anyanka was probably tearing out some guy's liver right now, her humanity abandoned and forgotten over 1100 years ago.

Xander finished up, "So with the Big Bad playing with history like that, the good guys might not win this time around."

"You want us to fight it also?" Cleburne asked.

"Yes."

Cleburne and Marcum exchanged a glance. Xander was reminded for a second of the glances that he and Willow had used to exchange, years before all the weirdness had started in their lives. Glances that were almost conversations. These two were coming to some sort of agreement. They broke their stare, and turned back to Xander.

Marcum spoke for both of them. "Okay, we're in."

Xander nodded and took a deep breath. "It wasn't a nuke; as I recall, those bastards used four hijacked airliners..."

* * *

**Los Angeles, California. The same night**

Angel stalked into his office, from the basement apartment he had below the office building. The same apartment Xander had once lived in, before the half-Brachen demon named Doyle had found him.

Cordelia looked up from behind the desk. The former cheerleader had taken to the receptionist job with some enthusiasm, if not efficiency; well, of course, that was only until the inevitable superstardom hurried up and arrived on her doorstep. "Hey, Angel."

Angel just went over and checked his message box. "No messages for me?"

Cordy shook her head. "Nope, been pretty quiet. Maybe the nighttime action might pick up! Some people - well, I assume they were people - they called asking for directions..." She tilted her head at Angel. "You know, maybe we should put in a special line for the demons? That way, I'll know if special arrangements need to be made..."

Angel glanced at Cordy with a combination of amusement and a baffled look. "I think that might offend some demons, Cordy. A few of them take pride in fitting into the human world."

Cordy just shrugged and went back to her work. "Whatever..."

"Anything from Doyle? And did you check the emails? Nothing from carpenterdude at yahoo dot com?"

Cordy looked up with a smirk. "Our little Irish Bam-Bam is mourning his latest losses at the racetrack over a beer somewhere. And yeah, I checked the account not less than 20 minutes ago. Just some junk mail. Nothing from that carpenter guy! Who is he, anyway?"

"Just some guy I helped out a while back. Before I met you and Doyle. He was supposed to stay in contact..." Angel said as he walked into his office, closing the door behind him. That effectively prevented Cordelia from asking any follow-up question about the carpenter guy, a.k.a. Xander Harris - whom she still regretted not making peace with, before he'd supposedly died.

Angel sat at his desk, a little worried. { Xander said he would check in when he got to San Francisco. Haven't heard from him yet. I may have to go looking for him, before too long... }

* * *

**San Francisco, California. Later that same night**

Both Marcum and Cleburne stared out the window at the San Francisco nighttime skyline, thinking their own private thoughts.

Their talk with Xander had taken a couple of hours. The former soldier had given them a broad overview of his memories of the 9/11 attacks, the hell dimension, life in Sunnydale and the First Evil's attacks during 2002-2003. He was now sleeping in another room.

"What do we do with him tomorrow?" Marcum suddenly asked.

"Move him out of town, I want us all back east ASAP. I'll feel a lot better when we have closer to home," Cleburne replied. "Also, our experts are back there. They can do a more extensive debriefing; there's a lot more we have to uncover in his memory..."

He waved off Marcum's objection. "No, I'm not saying he's hiding anything from us. Just that with all that's happened to the kid, some details are bound to have slipped into the background. After all, he spent four years as a slave in that goddamn hell dimension! Even *I* wouldn't have survived something like that, unscathed..."

Cleburne paused, and then continued, "Gotta respect his negotiation stance, though."

"In what way?"

"Most people in his position would want money, or some other kinda riches. Something for themselves, as payback for all the crap they've suffered. Him? We protect his friends and fight the bad guy. Even though he thinks they abandoned him, he still protects his friends. Stand-up terms..."

He sighed again. "So, looks like we're joining the fight against the things that go bump in the night, and this ultimate evil thing?" Both of them kept their voices down.

"It would appear so. And he called it the First Evil, or more simply the First."

"You measure all other experiences in your life, against the First time. It's a guy thing," Cleburne joked. "Yeesh, we'll need to change our organizational structure somewhat if we're gonna be dealing with the paranormal 24/7. I'll also need equipment. Different training program. Not to mention, a lot more men."

"Got any ideas for possible recruits?"

"A few, at least. It strikes me as kinda funny that those operatives slated for the Initiative, now have no place to go..."

Marcum nodded. "Anything else?"

"Yes. I want to know, why didn't we catch all this the first time around?"

"What do you mean?"

Cleburne said roughly, "September 11, 2001. It's not *that* far away! And it's exactly the kind of thing we're supposed to head off, remember? So why didn't we stop it? Why didn't Harris remember us being there, blowing up the damn planes or whatever? That thing with the First Evil, doesn't surprise me us not being there for the final battle; after all, unless we literally stumble across the weird crap we don't get involved, until now."

A shrug. "Maybe we were all dead by then. Or incapacitated. Or it just slipped through the cracks..."

"I sure as hell hope not, and I don't think we can rely on us just missing it the first time. Something happened. Personally I think there's something else out there, working against us, that wasn't made public."

"Such as?"

Cleburne glared down at the street. "I wish I knew. And, this time around, I intend to find out..."

TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

**Part Two**

**Shadyhill Cemetery, Sunnydale, California. November, 1999**

The wet grass flattened, as Buffy Summers the vampire Slayer walked through the cemetery. The dew from the early evening air had dampened the ground nicely. It wasn't too cold from the autumn weather, yet just cold enough that Buffy shivered a tiny bit within the jacket she was wearing.

She approached her destination, and saw that someone was already there. She slowed down her pace, and made a little more noise than normal so as to not startle her companion. "Hey, Willow."

The redheaded Wiccan turned, and waved at the approaching Slayer. "Hi Buffy, you coming to visit also?" she asked wistfully.

"Yeah; with Thanksgiving coming up, I just wanted to stop by and say hello. Been here long?"

"Oh, a few minutes. I was just telling him everything what's been going on with college. I really wish he was here, Buffy. I really do. It's, it's not right, it's..."

Buffy put her arm around Willow. "I know, he deserved better." She looked down at the tombstone before them.

Alexander Lavelle Harris

April 12, 1981 - May 21, 1999

The soul of a hero

Willow sniffled a little bit, wiping her nose with a piece of Kleenex she held in her left hand. "I was thinking on the way over here, about the last conversation I had with the 'real' Xander. You know, before Spike sent him to Hell and before he had the whole soldier amnesia thing and conflicting memories. That was the day at the start of our senior year, remember? When I saw the hatred in his eyes. When he told you, me and Cordy he didn't want anything more to do with us..." Willow started to tear up.

Buffy tried to comfort her, "Willow, it's not your fault. I...I'm responsible for that. Don't blame yourself..."

"You should take your own advice, Buff; no one forced me to do what I did. That night, if I hadn't been so mad over him lying to you about Angel's curse...I would have stayed to help him. After all, it was Xander! He'd been Xander to me, ever since the yellow crayon day at kindergarten."

Buffy raised an eyebrow at that. "Yellow crayon?"

Willow smiled. "First day of kindergarten, I broke the yellow crayon. I was so scared that I was going to get into trouble that I started to cry. Then this little black-haired boy comes up to me, and asks what's wrong. I tell him. He takes the crayon from my hand and marches up to the teacher, telling her that he had broken the crayon. He couldn't stand to see me cry."

Willow wiped her eyes, as they had teared up a little bit during her telling of the story. "That's the day I named him Xander, since I couldn't pronounce Alexander. He liked Xander so much, he went around the classroom telling all the other kids to call him that. And they all did; oh, except for Cordelia, she kept calling him doody head, 'cause she couldn't say dorkhead..."

Buffy laughed at that. "Nice to see Cordy hasn't changed that much over the years..."

That got a laugh from Willow in return. "Well, she has learned to drive a car..." That brought further laughter from Buffy. Willow continued, "My mom saw Xander's parents at the store the other day."

Buffy nodded. She knew Willow's parents didn't really like Mr. and Mrs. Harris. "Anything interesting come up?"

"They were complaining that someone had broken into their house and stolen a bunch of things, including some of Xander's stuff. Comic books, personal mementos and stuff like that. They seemed all torn up about it, since they had figured out that the comic books could have been sold for a profit..."

The amateur witch snorted. "You know, at times I wonder maybe if Xander was adopted, or left at the Harris' doorstep as a newborn. They seem more interested in him dead, than when he was ever alive. That law firm from Los Angeles, it got them all hot and heavy to sue the school board over the 'natural gas' explosion. Darn greedy of them, if you ask me..."

"Yeah. It's hard to believe that they managed to have a son like Xander."

Willow nodded. "I think the only reason my parents even spoke to them, is that they really liked Xander. You know, my mom even asked me once if I thought he would ever convert to Judaism?"

Buffy raised an eyebrow at that as Willow hastened to explain, "Well, that, that was when I spent most of my spare time planning my wedding to him. I think mom liked the idea of him as a son-in-law..."

Buffy smiled. "What mother wouldn't? My mom sure hinted every once in a while for me to see Xander as something more than a friend. Sure, he had his issues, and me, still a little ticked at him over the lie about the soul curse thing; but in the end, the mothers could tell he was all right."

Buffy looked over at the other tombstone, a few yards away.

Faith LeHane

March 24, 1982 - May 21, 1999

The heart of a lioness rests

Willow noticed where Buffy was looking. "We lost both of them, the same day. Well, at least their bodies..."

Buffy held her silence. She remembered how badly Willow had taken it, when Faith and Xander had taken to 'dating' during the senior year of high school. { Heck, I'm a little surprised that she agreed to Faith being buried so close to Xander's grave... }

As if reading Buffy's mind, Willow spoke up in shame, "You know, I-I-I'm an awful person. She loved him, even more than me, and I didn't even let them bury Faith next to Xander. I made them put her several yards away..."

Buffy patted Willow on the back. "You were hurting, Willow, we all were. Emotions were raw."

"Still, how could I do that? After all, Faith's last words were asking after Xander."

"Well, she did seem content when Giles told her Xander had saved the day."

"While leaving out the details of what he did. I *should* have let them bury Faith next to Xander's grave marker!"

"Don't tear yourself up over it, Willow. Heck, Xander's body isn't actually there..."

Despite the best efforts of the Sunnydale Fire Department, the body had never been recovered. Everyone assumed it had been disintegrated in the explosion. "His spirit isn't bound to this spot, and neither is Faith's. They're at peace now."

Willow nodded at the tombstone. "And all we have is a tombstone, with no body underneath it. And the memories of what we did."

**Urbana, Illinois. December, 1999**

The reason the Sunnydale FD had never found the body was now walking along a path in a campus-type setting, towards an academic building.

After all, it was kinda hard to retrieve a body when it was able to walk away from where it was being looked for.

Xander shivered slightly, and pulled his coat closer to him to combat the cold air. { God, I miss California... }

"Kid, this isn't cold, believe me," Cleburne snickered, as he walked alongside Xander. "I can't believe you think *this* is cold, and you were heading to Canada! Now *that* is cold. This..." He waved his hands around, "This is a warm spring afternoon up there." Cleburne looked just a tad too smug in his windbreaker, compared to the heavy coat Xander was wearing.

Xander half-growled at him, "Just a breeze that caught me unaware, that's all. I can handle the cold. I've handled much worse..."

Cleburne regarded him with a half-smirk. { You just keep telling yourself that... }

Since that first night, Xander's life had almost settled into a routine. The next morning, he and the others had all flown out of San Francisco. Xander still didn't know where they had flown to. He only knew the city he was staying in was somewhere in the eastern time zone, and it had more mountains than he had ever seen in his life before.

He had been situated in an apartment suite, on the top floor of a townhouse. It was a fairly comfortable place. All the amenities were present; fully stocked kitchen, satellite television (with no local channels), Internet access (with email capacity blocked) and exercise room. It would have fit right in at any top-class resort or spa.

It would have been great to stay there as a guest. As a prisoner, well, it was nice enough; but it was still a prison.

Xander always had at least three 'house mates' to keep him company. They changed on a weekly basis, and the rotation seemed to not have any set pattern. They were all clearly still on guard for something to happen. Mostly, they said, for someone to try and get at Xander; but still, he knew some of it was just in case he decided to make a run for it.

His mornings were generally filled with talking to people about what he remembered of the events before and after September 11. When he complained, saying he had already told them all about it, the reply was swift and decisive.

Repeated recitation of the facts, from different angles, to discover tidbits that had slipped his memory at the first telling. This had actually been borne out a few times, when Xander suddenly remembered a detail or two he had forgotten.

The afternoons were spent talking about what Xander referred to as 'Sunnydale specials'. The facts of life and the undead, as he had learned from his time on the Hellmouth. The people who came to talk to him in the afternoons were very different from the ones in the mornings.

The morning people seemed to be intellectual types mostly, with some Cleburne types thrown in. Xander had mentally nicknamed them 'the professors'.

The afternoon people were a harder bunch. He'd quickly pegged them as black-ops and Special Forces types. They were interested in what was out there; and more importantly, how to kill it.

They were good pupils, and Xander suspected that they were already putting his lessons to good use. But instructing them didn't make up for the lack of obstacle courses, firing ranges, and upkeep of personal weapons his finely-tuned body and soul had started itching for. And God knew he needed to keep his edge up; the former soldier knew he was going to have to do something about that, eventually...

When Xander had first arrived at 'the golden cage', as he called his residence, his evenings had been taken up talking to Lemke, the operative who was getting ready to move to Sunnydale.

Lemke was a giant of a man, easily topping six feet six, in his mid-30s. Xander told him all he needed to know about Sunnydale; the best dry cleaners, the best neighborhoods, never to go out unprotected after dark, the need to have crosses and garlic in every single room of his house, to never directly invite anyone into the residence at any time...

Things that made short-term visitors to Sunnydale able to last long enough, to be a long-term resident of la Boca del Infierno.

After about a month, Lemke had gone away, presumably to Sunnydale, and Xander's nights were taken up with nothing much in particular.

Working out and watching movies and TV only took up so much of his time, particularly since most of what he watched he had already seen in the future. Xander found himself spending more and more of his time reading, something he had really started to do for enjoyment the summer between his junior and senior years in high school.

The suite had an extensive library; and once it was discovered that Harris liked reading, the shelves were updated frequently by his hosts.

There were still tensions between Xander and his hosts, though. Because the former demon slave was sticking to his guns on not revealing any more of the future than he had to.

And his hosts tried just as hard to find out as much as they could. There had been several heated discussions over it, with neither side backing down...

At times Xander felt as if the entire weight of the U.S. government was concentrating on him, trying to get him to play fortuneteller for them. Of course, this wasn't really true, but certain things were not visible to Xander from his vantagepoint.

He couldn't see the U.S. intelligence community able to reorient itself to examine the al-Qaeda network, much more closely than it had before. A massive amount of resources were already dedicated to the task of tracking and trying to second-guess the terrorist organization.

And he couldn't see his hosts starting to learn as much as they could about the world of the supernatural, like what it was and how to deal with it, without going into complete denial over not being at the top of the food chain anymore.

Harris also couldn't see them strive to obtain, or to put it more bluntly steal, information about the supernatural from those in the know. This included orders for their operatives within the Council, to obtain copies of the diaries of the Watchers known as Rupert Giles and Wesley Wyndham-Pryce.

He couldn't even see his hosts inheriting the resources of the Initiative, such as the demon-hunter commandos he remembered. Which included several people that Xander would have recognized, such as Riley Finn, Graham Miller and Forrest Gates.

As even if they *could* get a few good men like that trio, Xander couldn't be around them if he wanted to avoid the mind-splitting headaches; the unavoidable consequences what came from trying to reconcile different memories of someone, with two separate histories.

Xander Harris now felt like he was someone watching a play that was happening while hidden behind a curtain. He could hear quite a bit, but couldn't actually see anything.

He could tell that his refusal to share more information about the future was frustrating the hell out of his captors. So the guy wasn't too surprised when one morning, instead of the professors, Cleburne had shown up. What *had* surprised him was that Cleburne had told him to get his coat, that they were going on a field trip.

A short plane ride later, Xander found himself on the grounds of a think tank in Urbana, Illinois. And Xander knew it was Urbana, only from some of the road signs he had seen on the drive from the airport.

"You finish that book I gave you?" Cleburne suddenly asked him, they entered the building. The security detail tagged along, silent and watchful like the guard dogs they were.

"Yeah, finished reading it a few nights ago." Xander had been surprised when Cleburne had given him the book called "The Proteus Operation". The secret agent surely hadn't struck him as a science fiction fan.

Still, it was something new to read. Xander had become a little uneasy though, in that it had been a story of time travelers from a 1974 United States about to be invaded by Nazi Germany, going back to 1938 to change the course of World War 2.

{ Trying to be subtle? Not exactly your strong point, Cleburne... } "You want a book report on it, or something?"

"Not me. Maybe from the wizard."

Xander looked quizzically at him. "Wizard?"

"Yeah, kid, it was his idea for you to read the book." They got onto an elevator, and rode it up a few stories. "Today, we pull back the curtain a little bit and you see the wizard behind the big operation. You have read "The Wizard of Oz", haven't you?"

Xander shook his head. "Saw the movie a few times." Another of his soured childhood memories of Willow.

Cleburne chuckled. "Well...today, you get to play the role of Dorothy."

"Really? You mean I click my shoe heels three times saying there's no place like home, and I finally get to be free of you?" Xander smirked at the chance to score a point off the man.

A frown met that jibe from Xander. "Okay, maybe not Dorothy, more like...the scarecrow."

They exited the elevator and walked down a hallway to a door that read 'Dr. Hollins'. Cleburne opened the door, and motioned for Xander to go in. "Into the Wizard's lair..." The security detail stayed in the hallway, as Cleburne followed Xander in.

It was a big, long office. A desk was set up at the far end, with a couch and some chairs opposite it. A computer workstation was next to it, upon which a small boy could be seen working on the computer.

{ Probably the Wizard's kid, } Xander thought to himself grouchily, quickly dismissing the boy from his immediate concerns.

A conference table was set up at the other end of the room, with a portable chalkboard behind it. The chalkboard had some complex mathematical equation on it. A picture window was opposite the chalkboard.

Cleburne took off his windbreaker, hanging it up and doing the same for Xander's heavier coat. The agent then walked along the room to where the desk was, and sat down in one of the chairs.

Xander followed him, and did likewise. "How long do ya think we'll have to wait for this wizard of yours?"

Cleburne didn't answer, he just smiled at Xander.

"Mr. Harris, I'm very pleased to meet you. I'm Dr. Irving Hollins..."

Xander turned around at the sound of the piping voice addressing him. He found himself forced to look down in surprise, when he realized the prepubescent child at the workstation had approached him and was the one talking. "Say what?"

"I'm Dr. Hollins. I'm the one you're here to see."

Xander looked back at Cleburne. { Real funny, trying to pull a crappy joke like this... } He glared at his companion, "Don't you have enough to do nowadays, without something as pointless as this?"

Cleburne just grinned back at him. "Xander Harris, meet the Wizard!" A low chuckle escaped from his mouth. "Freaked the hell out of me too, the first time I met him. But believe me, he's on the up and up!"

Xander looked at Irving Hollins, and for some reason...he instantly started to get suspicious. Another little souvenir, of his old sojourn into Hell. { Assume nothing. Presume nothing. Take nothing for granted... } "I see a ten-year-old child."

"Eleven," Hollins responded.

"What?"

"I'm 11 years old, Mr. Harris. I also assure you that no one is pulling your leg, as you no doubt suspect. I am the one tasked with reviewing and interpreting the data that you have provided. Thus I felt it would be best to facilitate the free flow of information, if we met in person. To that end, I asked that arrangements be made for you to be brought here for an exchange of views." Hollins stood in front of Xander during his monologue, with his hands clasped in front of him.

Xander got even more suspicious. {No normal 11-year-old kid talks like that...} He then looked at Cleburne, who just seemed disappointed no more disbelieving remarks were being voiced.

Hollins continued on, "I'm what is described in certain circles as, well, gifted, a prodigy. My mental faculties are developed to the point where I actually have several postgraduate degrees in a number of subjects. I also have the ability to see patterns from large amounts of information, and make deductions that allow action to be taken in a timely manner."

{ Oh my freakin' God. It's like Giles and Willow had a love child...and that is going to a *really* scary mental place! } Xander just stared at Hollins, maintaining his silence.

Cleburne started talking, "Thing is, Harris; the Wizard here, up until your little appearance on the scene, was like the crown jewels of STW. He's basically what gives us an edge over the bad guys. His IQ tests out to almost 200. Don't ever bother playing chess against him, and there isn't a crossword puzzle around that he can't solve in less than 15 minutes."

"STW?" Xander managed to ask.

Hollins answered him, "Siberian Trip Wire. It's the name of the organization that you feel is holding you prisoner. The people in it back in the 1950s, named it so since they were watching the Russians and were rather isolated from the government they served. The in-joke was that being assigned to the organization was like being sent to a gulag in that part of the USSR..."

Xander remembered the cold he had just walked through. "I can see why the 'Siberia' part would fit with the weather around here."

"Mr. Harris, I assure you, it's not that cold outside," Hollins reached over and shook Xander's hand. He then walked, and sat down behind the desk. "Although since you're a native of California, I can understand why you wouldn't be used to the climate here in Illinois. I, on the other hand, was born and raised in Chicago, where this type of weather is just a run-up to the big cold when winter arrives in full-force."

Cleburne suppressed a laugh, as Hollins looked at him. "I wouldn't laugh too much if I were you, Joshua. I've been told that you weren't too fond of the cold either, at first. South Carolina, although not southern California, is not exactly home to too many blizzards. I see no point in you having too much fun at Mr. Harris' expense."

Cleburne actually looked slightly ashamed at Hollins' reproach. He turned towards Xander and shrugged. "Sorry, kid."

Xander was shocked, although there was no outward sign of it. {This guy has been in everyone's face ever since I met him, and it takes an 11-year-old kid to make him apologize? }

Hollins sighed, and turned his attention back to Xander. "As you may have guessed, several issues have arisen that make it necessary for me to meet you in person. In particular, your determination to try and limit the information about the future that you provide to us. Now, you are quite correct to be worried over the possibility that trying to change said future, can lead to potentially apocalyptic problems. Your example of the accidental killing of a child destined to become a President who avoids a nuclear war, was one that very nicely illustrates the point."

"So I *was* being taped back in San Francisco."

"Yes, you were, and the practice has been continued for all of your debriefings to date. I have viewed them all." Hollins turned to Cleburne. "Has he read the book I sent?"

"He tells me he has."

Hollins turned back to Xander. "Mr. Harris, may I ask; what did you notice about Mr. Hogan's work?"

It took Xander a second or two to figure what Hollins was referring to. Then he remembered the book "The Proteus Operation" had been written by a James Hogan. "What did you *want* me to notice?" {Better be careful here, the super-genius is up to something...} Xander's spider-sense tingled.

"Many things, actually, but most of all I was wondering if you'd noticed how the travellers from 1974 dealt with the situation they found themselves in, when they got to 1938?"

"I did. But I'm not sure that what you read in science fiction can be translated into this real-life situation," Xander said with more than a trace of sarcasm in his voice.

Xander heard Cleburne shuffling in the chair next to him, as Hollins smiled. "Joshua has probably taken offense to that statement, as I believe he bases most of his personal philosophy on one of Robert Heinlein's books. I must disagree as well; sometimes, fiction can be used to illustrate real-life dilemmas and possible solutions to them very nicely."

{And I always pegged Cleburne as more of a "Soldier of Fortune" type guy.} "Let's cut to the chase; you're going to try to persuade me to come clean about everything what's coming, a few years down the road?"

Cleburne smiled a wide, shark-like grin. "How ever did you guess?"

Xander just turned and stared impassively at him, and then gestured towards Hollins; Cleburne lost his amused look, as he clearly read the unspoken threat five-by-five. "Don't even think it..." he snarled.

Harris smiled like a jungle predator in return. "It's supposed to be a free country here, Cleburne. You telling me what or what not to think? That's kinda hypocritical..."

Hollins sighed, as the two older men glared at each other. "And they call *me* a child..."

Cleburne didn't say anything, he just kept glaring at Xander. Suddenly Harris remembered something Marcum had told him, when he had first met her in San Francisco. She had been describing Cleburne's character, { It's when he's not barking that you really have to watch out for him. }

Xander sensed that trying to harm Hollins would cross some line, and Cleburne would react without restraint. {Loyalty to his people, an admirable trait. If only Buffy and the others had followed that philosophy a few years back...}

Hollins noticed the silent interplay between the two older men. {The testosterone factor in this room is suffocating. God help me, when *I* have to go through puberty! Better step in, before they start growling at each other like a pair of Dobermans...}

"Gentlemen. Let's stand down and remember why we're all here?" He turned to the oldest in the room. "Joshua, as much as I appreciate your protective instincts, I fully believe that Mr. Harris would not actually do any harm to myself. Deep down, don't you as well?"

Hollins then turned to the teenager, on paper but nowhere else, in the room. "And Mr. Harris, if for some odd reason I have misjudged you, which I sincerely doubt, and you do attempt to harm me...I assure you that Mr. Cleburne's skills are such that you would quickly regret it in ways that you can't even imagine."

{ I don't know about that. My little holiday in that hell dimension expanded my imagination a *lot* when it came to pain and suffering, } Xander thought as he stared at the older of the trio.

But after a few seconds Xander relaxed, and Cleburne quickly followed suit. "I'm still not telling you everything. The risks are too great."

Hollins reached over, and picked up a hardback book that was on his desk. "The travellers from 1974 found that the history they had prepared themselves for was changed, in small amounts agreed, but changed nonetheless..."

Xander saw the title of the book, and sure enough it was "The Proteus Operation". The child genius went on, "Also, the resulting future was not the one they'd envisioned. They had expected to give nuclear devices to Britain and France in 1939, so as to crush Nazi Germany then. But it didn't work out that way."

Hollins played with the book for a few seconds, then put it back down. "They also learned that the information they had quickly became outdated, as the world changed around them. They were even taken by surprise by Pearl Harbor."

"I'm still not seeing how this will get me to change my mind," Xander observed.

"Just because you went through *a* possible future, don't assume that everything will play out exactly the same as you expect it will," Hollins continued on. "Those travellers changed history in small ways that then cascaded into bigger changes. Remember how their changing a few words in a speech delayed the start of World War 2 by several days? Well, you've done that already."

"Delayed World War 2?" Xander quipped.

"No, eliminated at least three end-of-the-world scenarios. And who knows how many other things have been changed by your actions? You've already started the chain of events. Where it ends, you really can't be sure anymore."

"And there is that concern of the *other*," Cleburne added.

Hollins nodded, "You yourself admitted there is another party out there, who seems able to change history also. Consider the events of your senior year in high school. Everything changed, and not by your hand. I suspect its purpose is not all friendly. We have to consider the possibility that it possesses superior knowledge of the future. We could wind up facing a superior enemy, with inferior information."

"As opposed to inadvertently blowing up the world, and causing it to end?" Xander replied. "You don't understand, you would just wind up messing things up worse. The road to Hell..."

"Is paved with good intentions, true enough," Hollins finished the saying for Xander. "And Mr. Harris, I assure you that I am one of the few people on the planet who *does* fully understand the potential for drastic consequences, if your information is misapplied. As you can see, I have been refreshing myself on quantum physics ever since you came to my attention." He pointed at the chalkboard, with its long complex formula on it.

"I understand that the potential exists for causal blowback, from everything we do. Do you know there is some discussion within STW, to allow the plane attacks on September 11th to proceed unimpeded? So as to ensure that disaster does not strike, further down the line. Consider for example if the next Lee Harvey Oswald, or James Earl Ray, is destined to die there..."

Hollins looked directly at Xander. "But either way, are you comfortable with letting all those people die, due to a potential worry?"

The ex-soldier shifted uncomfortably. Philosophical discussions were one thing, but having thousands of lives rest on your decision was something else entirely. {It sucks, big-time. } An internal dialogue took place in his head for a second, as the soldier memories spoke to him. { Losses happen. People die. Can't be helped, during a war. }

Other internal voices raised an objection to this, though. He couldn't do that; he couldn't just stand aside and let the forces of evil kill all those people, anymore than he could walk away knowing what Maggie Walsh, Glory and the others had been planning. Granted that had been different, but he hadn't worried much about destroying the future then...

Hollins watched Xander, guessing what he was thinking. "If it makes you feel any better, we haven't taken any overt actions yet with the information you've given us about the terrorist attacks - for that very reason. We definitely do not want to do anything, without assessing all the possible consequences first."

Xander finished up his internal debate and reached a decision. "What do you suggest?"

"Unlike Joshua here, I don't want everything. For example, I have no desire to know who wins the Presidential election next year."

Xander snorted, surprising his companions. "Trust me, that's just as well. So what *do* you want?"

"Just be more forthcoming. Allow us, or more accurately, allow *me* to worry about the blowback. I have enough authority within STW that I can promise you, no actions will be taken without your input and agreement; and no one will gainsay me on that."

Cleburne frowned at that. "Irving?" he said with hesitation.

"Joshua, please, I know what I'm doing. Mr. Harris can help us evaluate his own information, since he alone truly knows what happened as a result of it. Can you think of a better person to help interpret such info?"

Hollins turned back to Xander. "What I propose is that as to the terrorist actions of 2001 and their results, you be completely forthcoming. This would also be true as to any other terrorist activities you can remember. You and I, along with some others, will review the information - with an eye towards tailoring a response that engenders minimal risks for temporal fallout."

"And the more information you give him, kid, the better. He's a wizard at figuring out the big picture, with a whole bunch of little pictures to work from. He's the one who figured out that you were still alive," Cleburne nodded at Hollins.

Hollins shrugged his shoulders a little, as Harris turned and stared. "It made sense. It simply was not logical to me that someone with detailed knowledge of the future would die in such a manner, at an event that was preordained that way. Nothing about you has ever made me think you're suicidal. Once that was established, finding you simply came down to good old-fashioned detective work."

Xander felt a flash of anger at the prepubescent sitting in front of him. So, *he* was the one responsible for this current situation? Xander masked his feelings though, with the aid of the 'lessons' he had learned as a slave.

But still, Hollins regarded him with an upraised eyebrow. "You should be aware that the Watchers Council also knew you were still alive, from the fact they sent some magically-inclined operatives to the site of your 'death', almost immediately afterwards with the intention of performing a hostile séance."

Xander was confused. "Hostile séance?"

"In effect, your soul was to be captured into an Orb of Thesulah and held there, pending long-term interrogation. When they attempted the spell though, the mages discovered that your essence had not left its mortal coil and you were still alive. This was quickly relayed to the Council, and from there it leaked out to all those others. This was a few days after I came to my conclusions, though. So even without me, you would still be a hunted man today."

Xander muttered under his breath, "Goddamned bastards..."

Hollins regarded him with a look of understanding. "I agree, the Watchers Council has always struck me as somewhat callous and cold in their attitudes to anyone who wasn't one of them. Even their treatment of the Slayer is shocking; the ritual they make the girl go through if she lives to turn 18 years old, is in my opinion quite barbaric and pointless. We're not prepared to do anything like that to you; we just want your help to stop bad things. But, we want it willingly. So will you help us?"

Xander thought about the kid's case for a few seconds. He then nodded his head, "Agreed. What else?"

"The same would hold true for the supernatural aspect of your knowledge. There, you seem to have eliminated all the current world-ending threats. There appears to be less chance of blowback there from giving us information. Also, that is the area we are facing immediate threats from."

Hollins pointed at Cleburne, "I suspect that Joshua here would very much like to know why Cleveland seems to be demanding more and more of his attention, lately."

"Well, that and John McCain."

Both Hollins and Xander looked at Cleburne after that remark. The boy chuckled, "You'll have to forgive Joshua. He's a little upset that the only graduate of Annapolis to ever become President was Jimmy Carter."

"Damn straight. West Point had Eisenhower and Grant. The academy only had one, and that was the peanut farmer to boot!"

Xander thought for a second, then smiled mischievously. {Guess I can twist his tail a little bit, without causing too many problems. } "Sorry dude, still holding that one close to the vest." The cursing from Cleburne brought a smile to Xander's face, as he faced Hollins again. "So, what, I move in with you now?"

"No, although I will be present more often. I'll pop into the site you're staying at on a regular basis. My understanding is that they're about to alter your living arrangements somewhat, due to security concerns."

Cleburne shrugged apologetically. "Sorry kid, but you stay in one place too long, everyone falls into a routine. Complacency gets people killed. We shakes things up every once in a while, and it's better all around."

Xander sighed. { My life truly sucks. But something good should come out of it for somebody, even if I don't know who. } He turned to Cleburne, "We'll go into details later, but I want different facilities this time. No more watchdog spy house mates. And I want my own personal weapons back."

Cleburne looked ready to pop a blood vessel. "No way in-"

"Agreed," Hollins overruled him.

"No," Cleburne stated, turning to face Hollins. "We learned the hard way, with the Soviet bloc defectors. Someone needs to be there with him. He can't just be left alone, and a big fat juicy target for anyone who wants to take a shot at grabbing him. There *has* to be assets for protection on-site."

"I want some privacy. I don't need a sitter every goddamn moment of the day. No watchdogs."

Cleburne faced Xander again. "Kid, privacy is one thing, but do you want wake up one morning to learn the many different uses the Chinese or French have for electricity? 'Cause that's what will happen. There are worse things out there than us. And without protection, they'll get you."

Hollins regarded Cleburne for a few seconds. "An arrangement can be made. Security can be balanced with Mr. Harris' desires. I can certainly understand them, in light of my own living arrangements."

Hollins faced Xander. "Joshua is right that there does need to be some protection. As a man with a military background, I have no doubts that you understand that too. However, we'll do it in such a way so as not to be as onerous as the current situation. And we will of course return your weapons."

"Wait a minute..." Cleburne tried to interject.

"His weapons will be returned. For self-defense, if nothing else," Hollins said forcefully to Cleburne. "He's supposed to be an ally, Joshua, not a POW to be interrogated without mercy. As you yourself said in San Francisco, we're asking him to trust us. And trust is - has to be - a two-way street."

"Trust but verify as Reagan used to say. Trust also has to be earned, not given," Cleburne sulkily replied.

"True enough. But if you insist on starting down that road - consider the fact with his treatment thus far, Mr. Harris has more reason to disseminate disinformation rather than to help us. Look, *someone* has to make the first positive move. Consider it a criminal order if you must, but new arrangements will be made."

Xander smiled, while Cleburne fumed helplessly. Then the ex-slave shrugged, figuring he might as well start sharing now. "It's a Hellmouth."

The other two in the room looked at Xander in incomprehension. Cleburne spoke first. "What?"

"Cleveland has a Hellmouth underneath it. That's why all the things that go bump in the night, seem to show up there. Just like in Sunnydale."

Hollins looked at Xander intently. "What's a Hellmouth, exactly?"

Xander suddenly got a big grin on his face. { Forgive me, G-man... } "This world is older than you know..."

**Los Angeles, California. December, 1999**

Angel stalked the streets of the city that night, keeping an eye out for trouble. He'd patrolled a little bit more often than usual, lately. It helped relieve the stress from the last few weeks, at least a little.

Buffy appearing in Los Angeles followed by the encounter with the Mohra demon, Doyle dying and Cordy getting the visions, Wesley Wyndham-Pryce showing up in town...

And those were the things he could share with the others. His main worry right now, was that he still hadn't heard anything from Xander.

It had been almost five weeks since the ex-Scooby would have arrived in San Francisco, promising to keep in touch by email. But not a word had come since then.

Angel knew he had almost driven Cordelia insane, asking her to check the email account every five minutes. As the vampire knew that Xander probably wouldn't call, since he didn't want his former girlfriend recognizing his voice.

And God knew she was really getting curious as to who this Alexander Hall truly was. She kept asking questions, that Angel somehow kept ducking. Because as far as she knew, Xander was dead; and he wanted to keep it that way, since that would mean less chance of anyone else finding out.

Of course, it also meant that the ensouled vamp had no one to help out in the search for Xander. The problem was that Angel just couldn't up and leave LA to go looking. Wolfram & Hart had to be monitored at all times, for one thing...

All of a sudden, Angel saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Disappearing down an alley like a ghost, he waited calmly for a few moments; then the undead hero jumped the guy that was following him.

The Bavarian fighting axe fell from his hands, as the human stared at the vampire. The champion for the Powers just muttered, "Now, just what did you think you were doing?"

Wesley Wyndham-Pryce shrugged. "A rogue demon-hunter like myself? Watching your back in the fight against evil, of course..."

Angel would have sighed, if he were human. { Xander, I *really* hope you knew what you were talking about, when you said Wes has potential here... }

Wesley only helped the situation a little bit. Because although he helped out with the evil fighting, he surely complicated the whole missing Scooby scene.

Wes definitely could not be told that Xander had survived that blast wave; the way Cordelia could manipulate human men, she would find out almost at once. And then, at worst, she might try to stake him for hiding the fact her ex-boyfriend was still alive and kicking!

Cordy might tell Buffy and the Scoobies that Xander was still around too. That might not be the worst thing in the world to have happen, though. Angel had been planning on trying to convince Xander to reconcile with his former friends, once he could be near them without having life-threatening headaches...

That was still a few years off, but if for some reason the Scoobies learned early, maybe they would more inclined to understand Xander's situation. Still, Angel hesitated to involve them in the search for Xander; they wouldn't knowingly harm their friend, but...

{ The odds are the Council would find out, as most likely they've got all of them there under surveillance. And the Watchers sure as hell would not feel the same way I do about this! They'd regard Xander as nothing more than a commodity to be exploited... }

There was yet another possibility; old habits died hard. Wesley, even though no longer employed by the Council, might feel the need to relay that vital piece of information back to merrie olde England.

Angel mused to himself, not knowing that the Watchers actually knew more about the situation than he did, { Yeah, both Cordy and Wes are definitely out. I need an outsider, someone I can trust and who's discreet. Damn it, if only Doyle hadn't died on that ship! He'd be the perfect choice to go find Xander... }

So for now, he searched by remote control, doing what he could without leaving Los Angeles. But with Wesley now here, maybe he could shake free for a few days to head up to San Francisco, see if he could pick up the trail...

Angel then watched as Wesley bent down and picked up the Bavarian fighting axe. And as he was straightening back up, the axe slipped from his hands again. { Then again, maybe leaving Wes to mind the store isn't such a good idea. Perhaps the Oracles might know something, about what to do? }

**London, England. December 30, 1999**

Quentin Travers strode through the corridors of the Watchers Council's headquarters on Great Russell Street with his usual arrogant attitude. He arrived at his destination, and quickly entered the room without bothering to knock.

The Watcher looked over the occupants of the room, and then quickly dismissed them. His gaze turned to the pile of items that were sitting upon a table in the middle of the room. "Do you have everything you need?"

"Yes, sir. The materials from Sunnydale should enable us to successfully carry out the spell..." The man who replied then looked around at the others in the room. He continued on with some hesitation, "Sir, you should know that we might have to cast the spell several times, to refine it down to a level where we can act. And even then, it will take us a period of time to complete the process..."

"I already know all that!" Travers snapped at him. "Just do what you have to do, and do it as quickly as possible. Enough time has been wasted already! Alexander Harris has been on the loose for far too long. That situation needs to be remedied, at once! He needs to be put under proper supervision; and so unless you want to be transferred to Reykjavik, Iceland, you better find him soon..."

TBC...


	3. Chapter 3

**Part Three**

**Los Angeles, California. March, 2000**

Angel advanced cautiously towards his target, taking his time and keeping his eyes and ears open. He mused to himself, { I swear, I'm *really* not sure about this... } The one and only vampire with a soul then looked around, not seeing anyone.

The former Angelus had had a difficult three months or so. Angel had been meaning to continue his hunt for Xander, he really had; but the life of a Champion is never easy, and something or another always seemed to pop up and distract him.

Not long after he and Wesley had had their little scuffle in the alley, his childe Penn had shown up in town. The shared dreams had started, and Penn had tried to go on a killing spree, before he'd been stopped with the aid of a wooden two-by-four and an almost-deranged lady cop.

Then Cordelia had lost her virginity to a human male who had impregnated her with seven infant demons, and she'd woken up the next day 9 months pregnant. Luckily, he and Wesley had killed the Hacksaw Beast father, and saved her life before she'd given birth along with the other surrogate mothers.

After that had come the other-dimensional "space princess" called Jhiera, and the slavemasters who were after her hide. Again luckily, he had kicked ass and warned them not to bring their war into *his* city, or he'd kill them all.

Then had come the Ethros demon, the drug-trafficking demons, himself ending up a gladiator in a slave prizefighting ring, as well as that stupid actress that had wanted him to turn her and unwittingly unleashed Angelus for a short time...

It was damn lucky that while under the influence of those drugs, his evil alter ego hadn't told his friends the news that Xander was still alive. Fortunately, there hadn't been enough time; besides...the vampire had been too busy anticipating how much he'd enjoy crucifying Wes and raping Cordelia, and *then* spilling the beans to those two - just to see the looks on their faces...

That was why Angel had finally broken down, and gone to see the Oracles about his search for the man now with STW. And the pair had been annoying in their usual way, although they'd become skittish once they'd realized what he had come to them for.

Angel remembered the conversation perfectly. The male Oracle had looked at him and said in deep annoyance, "You, yet again?"

The female had then added, "What have you brought us this time?"

Angel had subsequently thrown over an expensive piece of crystal, with a slight flaw in its center. One that, from a certain point of view...very much resembled a hyena. "Zarlythian crystal. Circa the Murshan Dynasty."

"Lovely. As always," the sister Oracle murmured appreciatively.

"Thanks, but I need help. Help to find a lost soul," Angel had then gotten straight to the point.

"Who is this soul of whom you speak, lower being?" the brother had brusquely demanded.

Angel had then taken in a deep, unnecessary breath. "His name is Xander Harris."

The duo had quickly looked at each other in alarm. "He speaks of the lost warrior. The one lost in time, and space, and meaning..." the woman had said nervously.

The Oracles had then refused to tell him anything very helpful. Only that Angel couldn't leave Los Angeles to find his old acquaintance; that he had his own path to follow, just as the former Zeppo did.

However, they had sent him to this abandoned warehouse to tell the people he'd meet there, to go to another place. That the one he sought would need help there. That he couldn't give it; it had to be the humans he would seek out. That was all Angel could get from the Greek-looking duo; and given the circumstances, it would have to do.

The vampire walked into the deserted building. "Hello? Anyone here?" Angel called out, only to be greeted by silence. "Great, they sent me on some kind of wild goose chase?" he muttered to himself. { I should go back and really tear those so-called higher beings a new one... }

At that moment, he heard the faint rustling of someone moving, coming from near the doorway at the other end of the room. Angel looked across and saw a small figure starting to run away.

"Wait!" the Champion called out, and started to run after the child with vamp speed. Angel could now see it was young woman, "I don't want to hurt you! I just want to talk-"

Angel was so intent on following her, he almost didn't hear the creak in the floor behind him. But luckily at the last moment, Angel sensed that he was under attack, and started to react. He jumped with not a second to spare, and avoided being hit full-on by a huge crossbow bolt that was hurled towards him, receiving only a glancing blow.

The Dark Avenger was knocked off balance enough that he couldn't effectively respond though, when a man popped out of the shadows and quickly tackled Angel. The momentum knocked the ensouled vamp to the ground at once. He tried to get up, but was knocked right back down again.

"Stay down, you!" growled the young black man who had tackled him.

Angel could suddenly see several others emerge, from various hiding places throughout the warehouse. All of them looked to be teenagers, or even younger. But nonetheless, they were all armed with various stakes, swords and axes.

"Hey, get off me! I'm just looking for someone-" the undead dude who loved Barry Manilow started to say.

His captor didn't seem to care much. "Yeah, right, and who's that?"

"You. I think? Look, I was told to come talk to whoever was here. And right now, I'm guessing that's you?"

The man who had tackled Angel just looked at him for a few seconds, with a skeptical air. Then his eyes narrowed in anger, as the bald black man's face shifted to an expression of hatred. "Shit! He's not breathing. It's a goddamn vampire! Somebody, gimme a stake!"

"No, wait a minute!" Angel protested vainly, as one of the teenagers ran forward with a wooden stake.

Seeing his protests weren't getting anywhere and his un-life was now in danger, the vamp reluctantly shoved really hard, and forced the man looking to stake him back a few feet. Angel rolled over and jumped to his feet, assuming a fighting stance. "Look, I don't want to fight you..."

"Too bad, whitebread," said the man who'd attacked him. "'Cause I wanna stake your ass, and fighting's the way to do it!" He lunged with the stake, and with a clever feint Angel dodged to the left. The others in the room started cheering the attacker on...

Angel tried to get through to them. "Please! I'm just looking for a friend!"

"Well, you've got no friends here!" was the growled response.

Angel danced back but didn't retaliate, as his attacker swung again at him. "I can tell that, already. But I was told you or somebody here could help that friend!" Angel's hand went to his pocket, where he had the picture of Xander he had brought.

"Really? Now, why would *we* help any friend of a damn bloodsucker? And a white middle-class one, at that?"

Another swing. Angel again dodged, only this time he didn't see the leg sweep until it was too late. He tumbled to the ground, the picture in his hand falling onto the ground. The attacker followed up with a few quick kicks to Angel's side, enjoying himself just a little *too* much.

Angel rolled away, and jumped back up. He then blocked the succession of blows that were thrown at him and shouted, "Come on! The guy needs help! And I can't give it to him!" Angel was getting frustrated. "You've got to help him. Please..."

"You givin' me orders!? Now that's rich, even if you weren't already dead..." Another punch that was blocked, then one that got through. The vampire couldn't help it; Angel's face vamped out at the pain and anger.

The black man then got a feral grin on his face, "Look at you now, all fang-y. Not that it matters none, but just for the record? You wasted your time comin' here, with the big speech. 'Cause any friend of a vampire is someone we don't want to help-"

"Gunn!" Angel's attacker jumped at the shout of the black girl, who the vampire saw had been the one he'd initially chased. She had picked up the picture that Angel had dropped in the fight. "Look at this, big brother!"

"Busy now, Alonna. Talk to me *after* I make this thing all ash-y!"

"Not yet. He's got a picture of Army Guy!"

The one that was called Gunn looked intensely at Angel, and suddenly stopped moving. "All right, you got five seconds. What have you done with Harris?" he growled at Angel.

Angel was surprised at those words, as his face turned human again. "Huh. You actually know Xander?"

Gunn and the other homeless kids looked confused. "Xander? We don't know any Xander, white man..." Gunn glanced at the photo his sister showed him. "This here is Harris. Stand-offish, but we owe him. Soldier boy took out a nest of vamps for us 'bout 13 months ago, later he disappeared and ain't no one seen him since."

Angel nodded, that had been about the time the former Scooby had shown up in Sunnydale. "He goes by Xander now. How well do you know him?"

Gunn sneered, all attitude. "Now, why should I answer your question?"

"'Cause I think he's in trouble. I've known him ever since he was in high school. Xander was supposed to contact me five months ago, but he never did. I can't leave LA to find him, and I'm thinking he needs help. In other words, you guys."

"I don't know..."

Angel continued on, as Gunn's face screwed up in doubt, "Look, I got this from some people who were pretty vague on the details, but they've never given me false info before. Please. If you want, don't do it for me - do it for him."

"He's that important to you? You go help him then," Gunn had relaxed just a little bit, still he was on guard in case something went south.

Angel shrugged. "I already told you - I want to, but I can't; *someone* has to fight the good fight here in LA."

Gunn looked at Angel with skepticism. "A vampire, fightin' the good fight? I think you got your wires crossed, somewhere on the wrong side of reality here! You're on the dark side of the Force; sorta comes with the being undead thing?"

Angel was starting to get impatient. "Listen to me. If I was still the same evil soulless bastard I was 100 years ago, all of you would be dead right now! But I got traded to the side of the good guys a long time ago, thanks to some pissed-off gypsies. Look, I'm Angel-"

"Angel, of Angel Investigations?" one of the onlookers named Bobby asked. "'Cause I heard some things on the street lately, about them being on the right side of things."

Alonna shrugged, looking somewhat surprised. "I heard that on the street too..." She turned to her brother; a living woman who would be dead right now, if not for Xander staking the vampire called Knox all those months ago. "Gunn, I'm not saying trust the bloodsucker, but we owe Harris. If Army Guy's in deep shit, we gotta help out," she said in response to Gunn's questioning look.

The Gunnster turned back. "All right, assumin' you're on the level. What exactly does Harris need?"

Angel sighed, { I hope the Oracles know what they're doing... } and started to tell Gunn what he needed to do.

**Chattanooga, Tennessee. A week later**

Xander patiently cooked his own breakfast. Growing up as the neglected son of two drunks, he had learned to cook for himself early on in life. He actually enjoyed it. It forced him to slow down, and make sure things were done right. Kinda like carpentry had been for him, in another world that now only he remembered.

The young man pondered for a second, the memories of the 'past future' - as he had taken to calling it. There were some good memories there. Pride in the job he'd had in construction. His engagement to Anya. The friendships he'd had. Those memories were much more pleasant than the ones he had now, of this new world that had been made.

Not that the old ones had been all peachy, of course. There had been more than enough heartache in them for any sane man to endure.

Jesse being turned, Kendra getting killed, Cordelia never really forgiving him for Willow, Joyce's death, Buffy's sacrifice, his leaving Anya at the altar, Tara's murder, his losing an eye at Caleb's hands, and Anya's subsequent death while fighting the Bringers...

Xander was hoping to change what he could in this new 'virgin territory', as Cleburne had taken to calling the future that was developing now. He knew some things had changed already. Warren Mears wasn't around to kill Tara now; and he had left a number of time-delayed letters for Giles, that also included information about Joyce's medical condition. He hoped that would be enough.

The former slave had told Hollins and STW about Caleb. He didn't know if they had found the demented preacher yet, or even if he had become tainted that way by the First at this time. But the ex-soldier had gotten a promise that nothing would be done about Caleb, without telling him first.

Because Xander Harris wanted to be there, when Caleb was...dealt with. He had missed out on that opportunity originally, and he didn't intend to miss it a second time.

He had been able to get that promise, as a result of that meeting in December when he had first met the Wizard, a.k.a. Dr. Irving Hollins. And the freer flow of information both ways had borne fruit.

Cleburne was happy, when the first tidbit he could act on arrived. It was the plot to bomb LAX on New Year's Day, 2000, by al-Qaeda. STW, knowing it had been coming and that the materials would be smuggled down from Canada, had been able to intercept it quite easily.

Well, actually, it was perfectly set up to react when a customs official had discovered the bomb materials in a random search of a vehicle at the border.

Just as in the original history. Nothing had been changed. The fear of altering the timeline too early was firmly recognized by the Wizard, and those he worked for. Nothing overt was being done to ensure that history proceeded along more-or-less the same lines as before, until the time was right.

Xander stirred the eggs, while keeping an eye on the sausage as it sizzled. Siberian Trip Wire had kept the promises made by Hollins. Security was less onerous than before. He didn't have those asshole 'house mates' anymore shadowing his every move, although he knew that they were still nearby. His weapons had been returned to him. And the training facilities were much more complete than they previously had been.

Also, the facilities were better overall. Xander had been moved after the meeting in Illinois, and it turned out he had been living in what STW used to house defectors and the like in. It was comfortable enough; but then again long-term occupancy had not been the intended purpose of the apartment.

Now, Xander was undergoing a tour of medium-sized cities of the southeastern United States. Every month or so, he was transported to a new site. The lodgings were those used by STW for their own operatives. The comfort and longevity levels were, accordingly, higher.

The first place he had moved to was a beachfront house near Charleston, in South Carolina. It would have been nice staying there...in some month besides January. Then it had been a house in an exclusive suburb in Birmingham, Alabama. Now he was in a studio apartment in downtown Chattanooga, Tennessee.

Xander wasn't quite sure why he was being limited to the Old South. When he asked the question of Cleburne all he got in reply was a chuckle and the statement, "Hey, you go with what you're comfortable with. Besides, do you really want to spend January in someplace like Anchorage, Alaska?"

To which Xander had to concede the point. Even though it still felt damned cold to the southern California native, he knew it was far worse further north. Xander did, however, slowly find himself getting used to it. He even managed to go jogging, with a companion of course, without freezing to death. The jogging was part of his training regimen.

The training had been paying off for Xander in other ways. He now had access to most of the same training facilities that the STW operatives used. Using what remained of his soldier memories, his hand-to-hand combat skills had progressed to the point where he was not totally embarrassed in sparring with his minders. Although those men had been astonished at his reflex speed...

Well, when a seven-foot-tall demon often kicks or punches at you to start working harder in Hell, you learn what you can to try to get out of the way.

His marksmanship was progressing nicely also. Xander was determined to be prepared this time, if and when the First made its move a few years down the road. Also, any rematch with Caleb was going to turn out *real* differently this time.

Of course, the downside of STW keeping its promises was that Xander had been exposed to Cleburne's idea of a sense of humor.

The second week of January was when the first knock on the front door of the house he was staying at had come. He had encountered something he had never really had a reason to fear, before now that was.

Mormons.

Without fail, no matter where he was staying, once every two weeks or so Mormon missionaries visited him. They knocked on the door, were unfailingly polite, well-mannered and soft-spoken, and asked if Xander wanted to talk about converting to the Mormon church.

At first, Xander had thought it was a fluke. Then when they had also shown up in Birmingham, he'd known it wasn't a fluke. He had immediately complained to Cleburne about it, the first chance he got.

The immediate response had been another chuckle and, "Hey, kid, what do you expect? You wanted looser security, and now you got it."

At that moment, Xander had known it was Cleburne's idea of a joke. He knew Cleburne wasn't a Mormon, since he had never heard of Mormon who cussed and drank coffee and alcohol like that. But, somehow, the Mormons were the secret agent's idea.

{ Well, it could be worse; those guys are never pushy and actually brought me honey a couple of times, } Xander thought, as he put the toast on his breakfast plate along with the sausage. The eggs were just about done.

Once a week or so, the 11-year-old Hollins showed up for a day-long session with Xander. Cleburne normally also attended these sessions. They usually took place wherever he was staying, although on at least two occasions he had been flown back to Urbana for the meet.

The sessions covered a variety of subjects - from the September 2001 attacks, to the world that most people refused to acknowledge existed. They were more in-depth than the other sessions he'd had.

Hollins seemed to have a method of information-gathering that careened all over the map, though. Xander recalled that at one session the child had spent over an hour quizzing him on what he had eaten on September 11th. Xander hadn't realized that he associated the details of where the hijacked planes had taken off from with Mars bars, but it turned out he did.

{ Who the hell would have thought that I would associate memories with food? } Xander thought to himself as he put the eggs on his plate, not realizing the irony that anyone who had ever seen him eat would *expect* him to associate memories with food. The size of his appetite had become something of an inside joke, with those tasked with watching over him.

Xander put eggs on his breakfast plate. He looked to make sure that he had made enough. His house mates had a habit of showing up around the time he had finished cooking whatever meal it was time for. Thus, he suspected this meal would no different.

Harris walked over to the breakfast table, and placed his plate down. He then walked back to the kitchen counter, picking up a coffee mug as he did. "Grub's ready," he called out, suspecting that he would be heard. "Food's done!" Then the former Sunnydalian picked up the coffeepot, ready to pour himself a cup of java.

But suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up. The soldier memories cried out in alarm, { Danger. Danger! Danger! } Xander looked around to see the threat, but didn't see anything. He hesitantly stepped forward, still gripping the coffeepot.

There was glittering in the air, Xander noticed. It seemed to be in all corners of the room, and then it started to mass towards the center of the room. "What the..."

Xander quickly shouted, "Hey, guys! Incoming-!"

The glittering came together, and five men appeared in the center of the room. One of them, sporting a bloody nose, immediately collapsed as a second man hurried to his aid. The other three looked around the room, spotting Xander as they did so.

"There he is, get him! Quickly!" one cried out, as the other two started to flank Xander's position.

Xander backpedaled as they advanced. "Uh, people, I think you took a wrong turn at Pismo Beach. Or maybe if you back-tracked, and turned left at Albuquerque..."

The one advancing in the center spoke up. "Alexander Harris, by order of the..."

That was as far as he got, before Xander threw the coffeepot at him. The man tried to block it, but only succeeded in shattering the urn, which spilled the hot coffee on him.

He started screaming, as the scalding liquid burned him. Xander ignored it; he just turned to his right, ready to face the next attacker.

The attacker took a swing at Xander, one that he easily dodged. The man seemed a little lightheaded, though. { Probably still a little woozy, from whatever spell they used to pop in... } Xander quickly threw a punch at the guy, knocking him back against one of the counters.

"A little help here, guys!" Xander shouted out, hoping that his 'house mates' were close enough to hear him and the sounds of the struggle. He dodged the arm thrown out by the intruder he had just punched. { Maybe this whole privacy thing may have not been that good an idea? }

Xander heard a crackle to his left and jumped at the last moment, barely avoiding the taser thrust forward by the third attacker. Xander grabbed the arm and pushed him forward, the taser shocking the second assailant. The guy jerked involuntarily at the contact of 50,000 volts and slumped back against the counter.

Xander, keeping an arm lock on the taser-holding arm, turned to see the first attacker crawling forward. "You bloody bastard!" the man muttered, betraying his English diction as he climbed to his feet.

Seeing Xander's attention momentarily distracted, the taser-bearing guy dropped the weapon and swept his leg forward to kick Xander in the back of his left knee. Xander felt his knee buckling. He released the grip on the arm, and rolled forward; the young man letting his momentum carry him out of reach of his attackers.

The newly-freed kidnapper reached down, and scooped up the taser he had dropped. He gripped the taser and advanced on Xander, with his coffee-soaked companion also advancing slowly behind him.

Xander scrambled to his feet, and assumed a combat stance. The soldier memories whispered in his head, { Great care required. Two attackers present. One will distract, while the other takes the shot. } And sure enough, the two attackers separated from each other and tried to outflank Xander.

The Xandman jockeyed a little bit, trying to keep both men off-balance so as not to be rushed by either one. { Just need to delay, the guard dogs should be here soon. But damn it, why aren't they here yet? }

The others obviously realized this also. "Hurry up!" the one on his left muttered to the other.

Xander braced himself for the next attack. When suddenly, his army instincts kicked in screaming a warning, { The others, the others! } Xander shifted his attention real quick.

The two men who had hung back during the fight were now approaching where Xander was. The hair on the back of his neck actually managed to stand up further, as he saw those two approach.

They certainly didn't look like operatives or soldiers. Academic types, maybe. { Caution required. Appearances are deceiving. Never underestimate the enemy, } the ghost of Soldier Guy whispered to him.

The warning proved prophetic, in the next few seconds. The one who had collapsed, still sporting a bloody nose, threw out his hands and chanted something in Latin. Xander instantly felt himself get thrown across the kitchen, hitting the wall hard.

{ Damn, a warlock, witch or wizard! } Xander scrambled to his feet, his ribs aching from the impact.

The man again, after shaking his head in pain, began to bring his arms up. Xander grabbed the pan that had held the eggs, and threw it at him. The mage was too slow in dodging; the pan glanced off his left arm, and he staggered back.

Unfortunately, this gave the man holding the taser the opening he had been looking for. He leaped forward before Xander, whose aching ribs were slowing him down somewhat, could react and hit the former slave with the taser.

Xander slammed back against the wall again, his body shaking in convulsions. He tried to get up, only to be hit with the taser again. The wizard hurried up and whispered another phrase in Latin.

Xander felt himself going to sleep, even as he tried to fight it. He was unsuccessful, and felt himself surrendering to the darkness as his body slumped to the floor.

The men who had attacked him hurried forward. The one who had been drenched in coffee leaned forward, and kicked the unconscious X-man. Hard.

"Damn son of a bitch. That hurt!" he growled at the helpless Xander. "Now come on, hurry up!"

Finally, the sounds of men running in from the other parts of the house could be heard clearly, as the intruders dragged Xander into the middle of the room and helped the stunned member of their group.

The door to the kitchen swung open, and two men wielding pistols came running in. "Hold it!" the lead one shouted out.

The man who had stayed back during the fight, raised his arms and shouted out a phrase in Latin. He clapped his hands together, causing the attackers and Xander to vanish in another cloud of glitter.

The two STW operatives left behind advanced cautiously into the room. "Oh, shit," the lead agent muttered under his breath. "Cleburne's gonna string us up by the nuts for this..."

**Georgetown, Washington D.C. Twenty minutes later**

Esther Marcum listened impatiently, as the person on the other end of phone finished up talking. The woman then snapped, "Well, I'm not that concerned RIGHT NOW about how they got in, or how they found him. What I want to know is, where is he? And how do we get him back!"

She glared out the window, looking at the Washington skyline, the sun rising in the sky. The response took a minute or so. Marcum then said, "No idea at all? Well, it strikes me that an operation of this type had to have *some* support on the ground. They couldn't just drop out of thin air..."

There was another long response from the other end of the phone conversation. "Yes, I know that! But even though they vanished into thin air, they had to have come from somewhere and go to somewhere. What does the video feed show?"

Esther stared out the window, noting a traffic helicopter slowly moving across the horizon. "You recognized none of them? Well, have you converted all the video footage for email transfer yet? Good, at least that much is done. Now email the file to Gulag at once, and we'll take a look at it..."

Mrs. Esther Marcum listened some more. "Oh, I also hope that you find something soon. Because I suspect Cleburne may not be as patient with you as I've been..." Marcum listened for a second. "Yes he knows, I talked to him just a few minutes ago. He's hopping a plane back from Gibraltar; what with flying nonstop to your location, the man should be there in a few hours. I imagine he'll want to go over everything that's happened. What? Yes, he seemed quite...disturbed at this turn of events..."

While the person on the phone started to babble, Marcum smiled to herself; Cleburne had probably used more swear words in more languages in the minute after he had learned what had happened, than most people probably even knew existed.

"Not to worry; I'm sure the fact that he's spending several hours in the back seat of an F-16 as it blasts across the Atlantic, will let him get in touch with his inner child or whatever, and make him be calm and at peace when he lands there..."

Esther then listened to the other end again, for a few more seconds. "No, just be thankful we couldn't get an SR-71 to the Rock like he wanted. At least this way, you have a little time to get your affairs in order before Hurricane Cleburne lands!"

The woman again listened to the response. "Yes, let me know what you find. I'll let Gulag know to be on the lookout for those video files!" She hung up the phone, and sighed to herself. { People popping out of thin air. Things were so much simpler, when it was just the Soviets and terrorists. These other threatse with their special resources have made things so damned confusing... }

A mental sigh. { Better see what I can do about finding a target for Cleburne to take out his anger on, besides our own people. } Esther picked up the phone again; like the kidnappers, STW had access to some special resources of its own.

She quickly dialed a number that was definitely not available to the general public. { I had hoped to save this as our hole card, but I guess we'll have to play it right now. } "Hello, this is Siberia. We have a Black Alert. I need an emergency retasking immediately."

**Unknown location**

Xander Harris slowly regained consciousness, his head throbbing in pain. { Man. Why does this crap keep happening to me? I'm cursed, that's what it is... }

"Hullo, kitten. It's been such a lonnnnnnng time..."

Xander focused his eyesight, at hearing the female British accent. He saw that he was sitting in the back of an armored car. His hands were handcuffed above him, to a hook in the ceiling. The vehicle was clearly moving at a fast clip, from the motion he could feel. But what really got his attention was who sitting across from him.

"Drusilla?"

The nutty vampiress smiled. "You look so 'andsome and strong! I just knew I'd see you again..."

Xander shook his head, and blinked his eyes. The motion of the vehicle did not help him deal with the pain he was experiencing. { Great, now I'm imagining things. Damn nightmares... }

She leaned forward suggestively. "It's no dream, kitten. Aren't you glad to see me 'n all?"

Suddenly, Xander began to get suspicious. If this wasn't a dream - and now he didn't think it was - in the few times that he had encountered her, Dru had never acted like this. She was acting way too...

Sane.

At that moment, Xander's stomach twisted when he realized who was sitting across from him. "Well, well. If it isn't the First..."

Dru/the First gave him a naughty wink. "Clever boy. Couldn't fool you, could I?"

Then the First Evil morphed into another British vampire. A male one with bleached-blonde hair, and a coarse North London accent. "Nope, no point in even trying. 'Cause we're beyond that crap, aren't we mate?"

"What do you want?" Xander asked as emotionlessly as he could.

Spike/the First laughed. "Well, to talk o' course! But ya know what? I can tell, whelp, that you're not at ease with what I've currently got on. So why don't I slip into something a little more-"

Then it morphed again, into a brunette woman that held a very special place in Xander's heart.

"-comfortable. Hey, boy toy. How's it going?"

Faith, the vampire Slayer.

Faith/the First was dressed just as Xander remembered, both in this world and the original history. Red tank top, black leather pants and boots. The image of Faith leaned back and put her left leg on the bench she was sitting on, resting her arm on it also.

For a fake imitation, she looked pretty good. Actually, she looked smokin' hot, period.

"Come on, stud, nothing to say to your old squeeze?"

Xander strained to get loose, furious at this outrage. "You're gonna pay for this! Stop looking like her. She's not here, don't you dare defile her memory like that!"

Faith/the First smirked. "Now I'm hurt. Look at me, Xander; I certainly look like I'm here, don't I? Besides, wasn't that long ago you had a much different reaction whenever you saw me at nights. Remember?" she leaned forward with a feral grin, and wiggled her ass.

"Back then, we never thought to give those a try..." She nodded her head at the handcuffs. "Something to keep in mind though, for next time."

"Kinda hard, since my ex-girlfriend's dead!" Xander had truly regretted Faith being killed at Graduation. His future memories hadn't prepared him for that; she had been supposed to live and eventually fall in love with the man called Robin Wood, who was probably out there right now looking for his mother's killer somewhere.

Faith/the First winked at Xander. "Hey, stud, can't keep me down. I'm coming back. Set things the way they ought to be."

Xander glared at the First Evil. "Things *are* the way they're supposed to be! Now stop being-"

The brunette laughed and said in that sexy Boston accent, "Yeah, yeah. Your one and only cherry-poppin', accept-no-substitutes Slayer. Miss me?"

"How could I? We've never even met before now!" The man saw no reason to give away knowledge of memories of the 'past future' for the moment.

The First slowly leaned back, letting Xander get a good look at Faith's body. "Oh, come on! We've met. Met quite often, back in Sunnydale 1998. You enjoyed our meetings, as I recall. Got all hot and sweaty during them."

"That wasn't you," Xander growled back.

"That was Faith, yeah; but FYI, Faith is in here, stud. The real thing, I kid you not. There really is a piece of her talking to you, right now. A piece that if I was corporeal you would *really* like, ya know?" Faith/the First grinned evilly at Xander.

The former slave snarled, "No wonder Buffy kicked your ass that Christmas! So, is this your grand plan? Just to come here and talk dirty to me? 'Cause I'm thinking your reputation really is pretty overrated, if that's the case!"

"Who said anything about having any master plans?" She glanced around the compartment. "Real fix you got yourself into here, boy toy."

The young man tried to calm himself. "I'll get by. I'm a survivor. It's what I do."

"Yeah, right. You're really handling it well! Funny, but I don't see your new friends around..."

Xander stayed silent, not responding to the First's jibe.

It went on, "Then again, you're totally used to being abandoned, right? Almost directly outta the cradle. Your parents - man, they shoulda been neutered after they had you! Remember before B showed up, how much they wanted you around? Betcha by now, your old bedroom is full of empty beer bottles and used car parts..."

{ Be careful. The enemy wants to get inside your mind. Don't let it, } the soldier memories whispered to him. Already, the old instincts of how to survive being a POW were coming back into play.

"Buffy and her little pep squad, they sure as hell abandoned you. Especially that Cordy chick, remember? Man, I hated her! They all left you there to die outside the Bronze, just 'cause you upset the almighty Slayer. Awful place to die, my opinion. 'Cause, I can think of so many other better places to go out with a bang! Like my bed, while I'm screwing your brains out..."

The First smiled maliciously. "Yeah, good ol' B and the Scoobs, they really went out of their way to screw you over. You just weren't good enough for them, I guess. Don't worry though, you were always good enough for me. Damn, I even wanted to have your children there for a while..."

"I'll ask again. What do you want?" Xander tested the handcuffs, doing his best to ignore that last shot which tore a bloody hole in his soul; but they held tight.

"Told ya, boy toy, to talk. Who else you gonna talk to? Don't see your new friends riding to the rescue. Probably won't, either. After all, why would they?"

Xander just glared at the First, trying to make it explode with his thoughts. Which was pointless, but nonetheless satisfying.

"Think about it, stud; you've already given them what they want. They know what's coming now. Only thing you can do for them anymore is fill in the blanks, which is something they can eventually do themselves. I figure deep down, they're happy to be rid of you! Let someone else handle the hassles of keeping you safe. They got better things to do..."

Xander remained silent, giving the ancient evil nothing to work with.

"Look, sweetheart. You want out of here? Sure you do, you don't wanna be cooped up as this bunch starts raping your mind. 'Cause these guys that took you, they'll tear it into shreds. Just say the word and I can get you out. What do you say? Mmm-mmmm, I can also make it worthwhile in ways you can't even imagine..."

Xander looked at his nemesis, as he slowly said five words. "My name is not Caleb." And for the first time, the false image of the First Evil appeared shocked and startled.

The First leaned back against the side of the armored car, morphing into Buffy Summers as it did so. She looked at Xander with a pouting smile, "Well, I gotta say, Xand; aren't you full of surprises? Ya know, I think I'm finally beginning to understand why all this fuss is being made over you..."

Xander glared at her. He was feeling great anger, although he couldn't tell if it was due to the fact that the First Evil was sitting across from him - or that it was using Buffy's form.

"Buffy's not dead. So, how-?" the guy suddenly demanded. { And hey, no headache? Either it's because I know she isn't the real deal, or it's something else. I'll have to remember that, for the future. If I have one, that is. }

"Not dead now, yeah, but I was. Remember? Well, I was only gone for a minute. Then I got better. You and Angel, you guys brought me back. Well, actually, *you* did it while he just stood around and looked like an idiot. And did I ever thank you for it? Maybe at the Bronze, months later...anyway, I surely thanked Angel. A lot! Oh, and did you enjoy making out with me? As we both know you ended up getting a raging hard-on, after giving me the kiss of life that night..."

Xander growled wordlessly, as Buffy crossed her arms and leaned forward, looking into the guy's face.

"Okay, let's get back on track. I was dead, fine. Gone into the light and everything. Like the inevitable lamesass prophecy said. Then you came charging in like the proverbial white knight, not caring about anything except saving me. Because you loved me? Oh, please! You brought me back, being my knight and all, but still - a bit of Buffy remains in here..."

She tapped her hand over her chest. "'Course, then you had to go and lie to me that day, about the plan to get my one true love back. How could you, Xander? Were you *really* that jealous?"

"Damn you," Xander growled, not sure if he was saying it to the First or to Buffy. "And just for the record, I don't need to justify myself or my actions. Not to you, or anyone else! I did what I did to save the world. And I stand by my decisions, no matter what anyone else's opinions may be..." He paused then said firmly, "Plus, if the *real* Buffy couldn't make me crack over that, what in the hell makes you think you've got any chance to do so?"

Buffy/the First just smiled back in return. "I've gotta admit, having watched your little antics over the last year or so, I'm beginning to think maybe - just maybe - I really did back the wrong horse when I chose Angel..." She smiled seductively at Xander.

Xander was surprised to realize that a portion of his brain was actually happy at hearing that comment. The soldier persona quickly stepped up though, { This is not the Slayer. Classic psychological warfare. Counterattack if you can... }

Buffy/the First continued on before he could do so, "Still, after what you did, I abandoned you. Left you to die. Like everyone else." And then suddenly, it was Angel sitting in front of the prisoner.

Angel/the First said with a sneer, "Paint it any way you want, but everyone knows that you lied about my soul being restored, that you manipulated Buffy to fight me all-out. To send me to Hell, if possible. Well, here's the joke, boy; you're the one who got sent to Hell instead. Or a reasonable approximation thereof. Irony; don't you just hate it?" The vampire then shook his head with a sadistic smile on his face.

Xander subsequently realized that it was supposed to be Angelus, not Angel, sitting there. He snorted, "You honestly think looking like *that* is gonna make any impression on me? Please! If I could make the real Angelus back off in that hospital, way back when..."

Suddenly, the First Evil morphed into a face and form he'd not seen in ages. His lost then-best friend, the 15-year-old boy named Jesse McNally - that he had dusted at the Bronze during the night of the Harvest, back in 1997. "Hey, Xan. Good to see ya, after all these years..."

"YOU SICK SON OF A BITCH!" Xander screamed in instant loathing. "Don't you dare use his face-"

Jesse/the First sat upright on the bench. "Hey, you wanted someone that would make an impression! 'Course, that doesn't mean I'm still not upset about you stealing my girl like that. Really, how could ya do that buddy? I mean, you and Willow knew how much I loved Cordelia..."

The ex-PFC had had enough. He shouted at the First, "You must really be bored, huh?! I mean, you spending all this time talking to me. I thought you were out to conquer the world? Seems to me you're just trying to torture me, by boring me to death!"

"Hey, no, dude, I'm not the one that's gonna be doing the torture thing. That's for them to do," the First pointed to the door.

The image of Jesse, was suddenly replaced by that of Dr. Maggie Walsh. "And that's a waste. You show such aptitude. Such promise. There's a vein of pure ruthlessness and viciousness that is just crying to get let out. The way you dealt with the others and myself? Very impressive..."

The image of the college professor looked down at a clipboard it held in its arms. "A question, if I may. Do you think your friends, old and new, would really appreciate your murderous behavior? They all seem to have these morality issues, that get in the way of such things..."

The former Zeppo fought to calm himself down. He needed to be focused for what was coming. "I did what I had to. I stopped a lot of bad stuff from ever happening, and as for the cost to my soul - that's strictly between me and God. But the way I figure it, just this once; the end justifies the means." { Which includes not having Glory force Buffy to have to give up her life, to save the world. Therefore she isn't raised from the dead, and the forces protecting the Slayer line aren't disrupted the way they were originally... } "Too bad if some plans of yours were spoiled."

Walsh/the First checked something on the clipboard, and then looked up. "You go right on believing that if you wish. But I think both of us know better. Nothing has changed. I'm still coming to overrun this world."

Then it morphed into Buffy again. "Just remember, I can get you out of this mess anytime. All you have to do is play ball. And hey, it's not all bad being on my team! You can get to do all the things to her, that you've ever fantasized about. Pay her back for everything she did, if that's what you want. Over, and over, and over again..." Buffy/the First winked seductively at Xander.

Xander bit back a curse, furious at the incorporeal monster. The First continued on, morphing finally back into Faith, "Looks like the ride's coming to an end, lover..." The armored car was indeed slowing down. "One more incentive for you to sign up with the winning team. Because no fooling, I can bring Faith - your Faith - back. What do you say?"

Xander felt his stomach lurch at that statement, as he considered *all* the implications - and he suddenly froze in fear, as something unspeakably horrible occurred to him. Faith/the First just smiled at him though, with a grin that he remembered quite vividly from when they were 'dating'.

"That's right, man-meat. All this can be yours again..." She leaned forward, giving Xander a good view of her cleavage. "You think about that, while they're ripping your mind apart!"

The First then vanished in a short burst of white light, as the door to the armored car started to open.

**Georgetown, Washington D.C.**

The remains of the salad sat in its bowl on the desk, the shadows from the midday sun lengthening out behind it. Esther played with the phone, waiting for the connection to be made. After a few seconds, she heard what she was waiting for.

"Cleburne? We've caught a little bit of a break. Another review of the video files came up with an ID match on one of the attackers." She paused for a second, gathering herself for what was coming. "Thing is - he's a cousin."

That got the reaction she'd more-or-less expected. And if Cleburne hadn't been stuck in a cockpit over the Atlantic, she was absolutely sure the screaming male agent would have thrown his phone out of the window.

Marcum continued on, "There's no doubt in my mind - it had to be the Watchers. And they used some sort of magic they had access to, somehow. But if they're using the cousins for ground support, we can get an idea of where they're operating out of...yes, don't worry, I'll make our displeasure at all this *very* well known to them!"

She sighed, as the response continued on. { Good Lord, he has got to be violating so many FCC regulations regarding vulgar language over the radio waves, that I wouldn't be surprised if we received a visit from a SWAT team... }

"Look, according to Hollins they had to be close by, in order to perform that sort of teleportation spell. Keep heading to Chattanooga and if I get anything more specific, we'll vector you in on it. Until then, I suppose there's nothing more to say - Cleburne, for heaven's sake, that's no way to talk to a lady!"

Esther hung up. { God help us, I *really* hope that he can't fire any of the weapons on that plane onto downtown Chattanooga, Tennessee... }

TBC...


	4. Chapter 4

**Part Four**

**National Security Agency headquarters, Fort Meade, Maryland. Late March, 2000**

"We've got something!" the technician hunched over the computer workstation called out. A dozen other technicians worked on similar systems in silence, as the supervisor walked over the man who had called out.

The supervisor, wearing the uniform of a U.S. Air Force Major, leaned over the technician's shoulder. "Talk to me," she said in a clipped, impatient voice.

"The computers keyed onto a cell phone call, made about twenty minutes ago." He held a pair of headphones to his superior, which the Major took and put on. The technician then tapped a few buttons, and the playback began.

"Cummings here." The supervisor raised an eyebrow, as normally names weren't used for these types of conversations.

"The colonial package has been secured; and he's being transported to the extraction site, as we speak."

"Everything go all right, then?"

There was a pause of several seconds.

"Essentially, although they roughed him up a little bit during extraction. Damned unprofessional, if you ask me."

"Details."

"He fought them, as you'd expect. And they took exception to the fact that someone would actually dare defy them! I think the package has some bruised or broken ribs. And later..."

"What?"

"Later, he started yelling in the back of the transport. Almost like he was having a conversation with someone. They figured that since he was awake 'n all, he might answer a few questions. So they pulled over, and started in on him. But the blasted sod wasn't exactly...cooperative."

"Tell me that they didn't..."

"No, only slapped him around a few times. It's bloody obvious that these thugs really don't have a clue on how to interrogate someone properly."

"Language," the first voice reproached the second one.

"My apologies. It's just that I hate to see amateurs operating, in any form, within the craft."

"Understandable. You can confirm no permanent injury to the package?"

"Yes. And after about twenty minutes they finally figured out they might be drawing attention to themselves, their transport just sitting around on the side of the road like that. So they drugged him again and proceeded off."

The next silence lasted over ten seconds.

"There's been a change of plans. Extraction cannot take place at the primary site. You'll need to tell them to go to the secondary site."

"You should know that'll add hours to the transport time, and the risk of enemy detection."

"I know, can't be helped. That's an order, by the way. The secondary site will be used."

"Understood."

"Also, check back in with me every hour. Keep me informed of the progress."

"Are you certain that's..."

"That's also an order."

"Understood."

With that, both parties to the conversation hung up.

The major took off her headphones. "Sure sounds like what we're looking for..."

It was a little-known secret, at least outside of the professional conspiracy theory nutcase circles, that the NSA had the ability to intercept almost every cell phone conversation in the world. Of course, having that capability and actually using it were two very different  
things. With the size of the national deficit lately, the U.S. government was not in the habit of intercepting cell phone conversations without a good reason.

But a phone call from the Siberians had given the NSA a good reason to do so.

"Came off of a tower in Dalton, Georgia," the technician said, referring to the fact the phone call had been bounced off a cell phone node, to get it into the national phone system.

"Ah, the carpet capital of the world?" the female Major joked.

"Ma'am?"

"You've never built a house, obviously. When John and I built our place, we actually drove down there to buy carpets, wholesale. Lots of factories there make the stuff, and the prices they charge? Well, let's just say the money we saved paid for the tiles in the master bathroom. Anyway, what else can you tell me?"

"The call was made to a number in their Washington embassy. I'd suspect that the voices would be identifiable to the spooks."

"And the cell phone?"

"Knowing which tower they made this call from, greatly limits where we have to look next time."

"You'll catch the call next time?"

"Yeah. They can't hide using that cell from us, not anymore. We'll be able to listen in during real time."

The Major smiled. "Good." She picked up the phone next to the workstation, dialed a number and waited for an answer.

"This is Puzzle Palace. We have something for you." 

**Georgia. Thirty minutes later**

Charles Gunn drove his beloved pickup truck through the Georgia countryside, the afternoon sun beating down on him and the vehicle. He had left LA behind a while ago, leaving his best friend Rondell in charge of the group; the 'Lost Boys', as his sister Alonna laughingly called them, after Harris had come up with the name last year.

Alonna was here with him now, not trusting him to do this alone. She slept in the middle, between him and Bobby, as the other man just stared out at the countryside as it went by.

"Hey, Gunn. This really makin' sense to you?" Bobby suddenly spoke up.

"Whatcha mean, dog?"

"This," Bobby waved his hand in the air. "Driving across the country to redneck central, to look for someone we really didn't even get to know that well, to go to an airstrip in the middle of nowhere. Start a fire, and get all those people all stirred up. Then jump back into the truck, while being shot at, and then drive to another airport to do Lord knows what. All of this, based on what a vampire told us?" Bobby snorted. "Just doesn't seem right..." 

"Hey, has anything seemed right to you lately? It's like, the shit's been hittin' the fan for ages now."

"And that's the reason we drove across the entire goddamn country, when we could be back home? 'Cause if that's it, we had plenty of messes back in our own 'hood to take care of first!"

Gunn watched a police car pass them going in the opposite direction. It made him nervous, { The cops back home are bad enough. Don't wanna imagine how the rednecks with badges are gonna react, to a brother in a truck with California license plates... }

Bobby nodded as the cruiser went by. "See what I'm sayin'? We're liable to meet some damn fools who use their momma's white bedsheets more 'n they should, if ya know what I mean..." He sighed and continued on, "You ask me, we should just turn around and head back to LA. Pretend none of this ever happened."

"Leave if you want, but I'm staying and helping him out, you ungrateful horse's ass!" Alonna said, without opening her eyes.

"Alonna, now don't..." Gunn started to say, uncomfortable at the notion she had heard all this. Both because the loud voices had woken her up, which he could handle, and because his little sister might call him out on a lack of honor, which he could not.

"Don't you try to shush me, Gunn! 'Cause I ain't just one of your soldiers," Alonna opened her eyes and snapped at her older brother.

She glared at Bobby. "I see some people got a real short memory, these days! Army Guy helped out when things started getting weird, remember? We hardly knew even what was going on, when things started going south at that gym. Then Harris shows up, and teaches us how to kill 'em fast and clean? We owe him, and don't you try to tell me no different. What do you think would have happened without him, back then? My money says a lot of us would probably be fang-faced or takin' the big dirt nap, right now!"

Bobby snorted. "We could have done just fine without him. Didn't need no help."

"Bullshit! You're just a jealous asshole."

Bobby looked at Alonna with a sneer. "Yeah? Well, sounds to me like someone has a crush on Army Guy."

Alonna smacked Bobby on the arm, making him yelp. "Do not!"

Gunn joined in, "You know, Alonna, can't help wondering? He's right, why couldn't you have had a crush on someone in a closer state? I hear Nevada is nice..."

"Gunn!" shrieked Alonna. "Knock it off! I don't have a crush on Harris. I'm just worried, is all. He saved our tails..."

"And you're probably hoping the guy likes your tail enough to-" But that comment earned Bobby a menacing glare from Gunn, and the kid quickly shut up. "Hey, just joking man..." the gang member raised his hands when he saw his leader's face.

"Turnoff, here!" Alonna shouted out, pointing at a road sign. Gunn quickly made the turn onto the next road, and the truck jostled a little. "How long?" Alonna then asked.

"'Nother couple of hours, is my guess," Gunn replied.

"Wake me when we get closer," Alonna closed her eyes again and leaned on Gunn's shoulder.

**Unknown location. A few minutes later**

Xander faded in and out of consciousness. He couldn't tell how long he had been drugged this time. He could only vaguely make out shapes and snippets of conversations around him; but Harris could tell that wherever he was now, it was not in a moving vehicle.

"Is he able to answer questions?" demanded a voice with more than a trace of arrogance.

"Not really. I suspect he can talk, but I'm not sure how much sense he'll make."

A face appeared in Xander's vision, and he felt a mild headache coming on. { Hey, I know him! } Xander thought. He tried to place the hazy man's features...

"Mr. Harris? Mr. Harris!" the British guy said with a snappish tone.

{ Oh, shit. Travers? Quentin Travers. It's that pompous asshole from the Watchers Council, } Xander finally placed the face.

The man left Xander's line of sight, but his voice could still be heard. "Wake him up enough so that he can answer my questions."

Xander felt himself manhandled and injected with something. And he heard someone say, "That should rouse him, sir. Give it a few minutes, and he'll be ready for interrogation..."

The Soldier Guy memories started whispering to Xander. { Wake up and focus. The enemy is present in unknown numbers, and you need to be on guard. Be wary and keep an eye out for any opportunity to escape. } Xander then shook his head, as full consciousness returned to him.

The 23-year-old looked around, and saw that he seemed to be in a warehouse of some kind. Several men and one woman surrounded him. He recognized some of the men from the attack in the apartment. Xander also recognized Travers, the woman and one of the men from his original memories of the Watchers' visit to Sunnydale during the crisis over Glory.

"Mr. Harris. Do you understand me, child?" Oh yeah, that was Travers.

"I'm not a child, you overgrown balding windbag," Xander growled at him.

Travis sent his trademark arrogant smirk towards the captive. "Mr. Harris, by order of the Watchers Council I am taking you into protective custody, and having you removed to a secure locale in England for further study."

"And if I don't want to come?" Xander started to assess his situation. He was sitting handcuffed in a chair. He could see the armored car that he assumed he'd come in parked several yards away. The prospects did not look promising...

In addition to the slight headache Travers was giving him from his proximity, Xander was also glad that he had only met the Watcher that one time due to the fact his ribs ached. He just hoped that none of them were broken, on account of the smash and grab raid the Brits had carried out.

"What you want is irrelevant, as no doubt you have no idea what it is we're truly on about. And you colonials can never understand what's best, anyway-" the Council operative started to say.

"Actually, I think I have a pretty good idea what you're after." Xander wondered if he could bluff his way out of this. { Nothing to lose by trying, anyway. } "You guys want to study me, because you're thinking the Slayer gene might skip sexes next time a Chosen One gets called?"

A few of the Watchers smirked at that, but the amusement instantly disappeared under Travers' quick glare.

"Child, you are obviously as foolish as any member of your underdeveloped nation. Mr. Wyndham-Pryce, before his resignation from the Council, told us about your situation. There is no point trying to deny anything. We know who and what you are, Future Boy, and more importantly what you know..."

Travers turned to one of the other men. "Get Kennsington." The man hurried off to do Quentin's bidding.

"I don't suppose I could give you guys some winning lottery numbers, and we can just call it all even?" Xander suddenly joked, abandoning the subterfuge approach. "I mean running the Watchers Council can't be cheap these days, after all..."

Travers regarded Xander with disdain. "To be honest, I find it almost impossible to believe that someone such as yourself could have the knowledge we seek. Someone so...insignificant."

Xander glared at Travers. "Insignificant, huh? This coming from someone without a Slayer to abuse on her 18th birthday?"

Travers looked a little confused at that. "You know of the Cruciamentum? No, never mind. Your question seems to indicate, though, that you expect us to be without a Chosen One. But you should know that even though Ms. Summers has seen fit to abandon her duty, we have another Slayer. A *true* Slayer, who was called when Ms. LeHane was killed."

Travers regarded Xander closely for a second. "Wesley's reports stated that some of your memories were indicative that history has changed, from the original timeline. If so, I look forward to learning all the details. I quite look forward to learning *all* that you know, young man..."

Xander silently cursed himself. Of course - Faith had never screwed up, and later gone to prison for her crimes, in this reality. He should have realized before now that when his first time had been killed at Graduation, a new Slayer would have been called.

In this new world, even though Buffy had quit the Council when they had refused to help after Mr. Trick had poisoned Angel, the Watchers would have a Slayer to order around.

{ Wonder which one of the potentials it was? You got Annabelle, Molly, Vi, Chloe, Eve, Rona, Amanda, Chao-Ahn, and all those others to choose from. Damn, all those kids would still be so young in 1999, though...wait, what about Kennedy? She'd have been what, 15 or 16? Probably old enough... }

Xander grimaced upon realizing that there was a young girl out there somewhere, under the control of these thugs. { Worry about that later. For now, get yourself out of this mess! } the soldier memories commanded him.

Two men approached; one of them, Xander recognized from the apartment. { You! That asshole mage. We are gonna settle accounts soon, buddy. I promise... }

The wizard - Kennsington, Xander guessed - approached Travers. "You sent for me, sir?"

"Yes. I want you to cast a truth spell on him, right now."

"Ah, no, I can't."

Travers looked royally pissed at that. { Of all the impertinent... }

"I'm sorry, Mr. Travers, but my reserves are still too drained from the teleportation spell you ordered. At the moment any attempted spellcasting would be meaningless, and almost certainly fail. Like it or lump it, I need time to recover..."

Travers looked at his watch, getting over his minor tantrum. "Blast. I had hoped to get some initial interrogations done before we left..." He turned to the young man Xander remembered from the original history. "How long till the plane is ready to take him out of here?"

"At least an hour, we're still rearranging everything from the original site."

Travers turned back to Xander. "Mr. Harris, for reasons you can't comprehend, I intend to travel separately from you. I suggest you use that time to resign yourself to your new place in the scheme of things."

"You're just afraid I'll get loose and kick your pathetic British ass."

Quentin let loose a superior smile. "Hardly, little boy."

Xander suddenly got a cold look on his face. "Some free advice for you, 'Quentin'. If you hit me with the magic mojo? For your sake, don't inquire too closely about what happens to you and the Council..." The former slave grinned like a shark, and it was a sight that left most of the Watchers wanting to shiver. "'Cause I promise you, you're not gonna like what you learn..."

Travers looked offended at the fact that Xander had addressed him using his first name. "Mr. Travers is the proper way to address me, child. Just for that, I will make sure that learning proper respect is added to your 'debriefing sessions'. I will learn all there is to know from your head. And we *will* properly use all the information you have."

"Sure, to line your own pockets or play Council politics. Oh yeah, old man, I remember; it's not as if you don't make out like gangbusters exploiting those poor little girls. You get off on that, having power over kids who do your fighting for you."

"Quiet, you!" snapped the man who Xander remembered throwing coffee on, back at the apartment.

He stepped forward, and backhanded the captive. Xander's head rocked back, and the chair shook from the force of the blow. The female Watcher suppressed a gasp when she saw that.

Travers glanced at her. "No need to feel sympathy for him. Remember after all, you're a Watcher. You can't get too concerned over the little things." He turned to the leader of the retrieval squad. "Use the hour before the plane arrives to ask questions of him. Just don't do anything which might render him unable to travel."

With that Travers turned and left the room, followed by his two assistants, the female looking back with carefully concealed concern before she left the room.

"Hey, Travers!" Xander shouted. As the entourage looked back, Harris said simply, "I'll see you in Hell, before you get anything useful outta me..."

The Watchers left without another word, and the leader of the retrieval squad turned to Xander. "Well, I guess we'll just have to find a way to entertain ourselves while we wait for our flight, won't we?"

**Wolfram & Hart building, Los Angeles, California. The same time**

Lilah Morgan entered the main meeting room, within the law firm. She could see that a heated discussion had already begun; her colleague Lindsey MacDonald was trying to make his point to middle management.

"We can get a tactical team ready to go after him in 60 seconds. They're made up of ex-Special Forces and black-ops personnel. They can handle anything that stands in their way..." the male attorney who had the nagging case of an occasional conscience offered.

Lilah sat down and felt the need to interrupt. "You know, for some odd reason, once we tell the tactical teams who they'll be facing? They seem to find so many strategic reasons to not pursue the operation. They're genuinely afraid of this STW, as they call it."

"Afraid of *them*? You'd think they would be more worried about the Senior Partners making them eat their own livers," Lindsey responded.

"Yes, *you* would think so, but most of our SWAT teams are aware of STW's track record. They feel that any such operation would just cause pain for us. More pain than normal, that is," the beautiful brunette cooed back at Lindsey.

The head of the special projects division, Holland Manners, looked at Lilah. "What do you suggest?"

Lilah gestured, "We have to adapt our strategy, and attack the problem where his protectors are weakest. I have two ideas. The first one is so mundane, that I would be very surprised if the protectors have even considered it. The second one plays to the strengths to the Senior Partners and would have Mr. Harris deliver himself to us, willingly."

Holland smiled, the evil in his corrupted soul clearly visible. "Do tell us more."

**Rural Georgia. One hour later**

Xander ached all over. { You know, for a group sworn to protect humanity and the rest of this sorry world, these assholes know quite a bit about putting the hurt on a person... }

An hour had passed since Travers had left. The interrogation by the retrieval squad had not gone to their satisfaction. And as their frustration level grew Xander's discomfort, well pain if you were being truthful, had grown in kind.

{ Damn fools think their methods are gonna work on *me*? They ought to try a Gar-wak demon, attempting to set you on fire! I'm not gonna give them anything, well nothing beyond boom. } Every time they had asked a question about the Watchers Council, he had answered with only one word. "Boom."

And they *really* hadn't liked that.

When the time had come, they had put him back into the armored car he'd been in before. They were now driving to wherever the plane, or at least Xander assumed it was to be a plane, was waiting for them.

{ Be wary. Take whatever chance you can get to escape. If they get you on that plane, the odds of you escaping go down dramatically. } Xander mentally steeled himself for when they came to put him on the aircraft.

"Been having fun, lover?"

Xander looked up at the question, and saw the image of Faith sitting in the vehicle with him. "You again? Aren't you supposed to be somewhere annoying someone, who'll actually listen to you?"

The First Evil just ignored the question, just looking Xander up and down. "Looks like you were on the losing end of the conversation. What happened, they didn't like your sparkling personality?" She/it shrugged. "Me, I always did! That and the other things about you," Faith/the First smiled evilly at Xander.

"Go to Hell, you bitca," Xander snapped, as he was not in the mood for this.

"Actually just came from there, stud. Nice place, I like it. Although I'm looking forward into moving into bigger quarters, before too long. Going to do a lot of remodeling. I can do something special for your little bit of it..."

The First suddenly morphed into Buffy. "You seem to like me and Faith, I can tell. Nostalgia. You get a kick out of seeing the old gang. Maybe I can arrange for Willow, Oz or Cordy to make an appearance? Would you like that?"

Panic gripped Xander's soul. "You are gonna leave them alone," he snarled at the First.

"Fine, all you gotta do is join me. They'll be protected as much as you want, then. They can be, like, your loyal subjects in the new world order or whatever. And don't wanna nag but you gotta hurry up, on account of you don't have much time left. You can either join me now, or pay the price when your own personal hell really begins."

All of a sudden - the soldier persona started screaming in Xander's head. { The enemy has become desperate. Something is about to happen, that it can't control. And it wants you to commit to its side, before whatever it is comes to pass... }

Xander stared directly into the First's eyes. "I've been to Hell already. Go torture your Bringers or whatever it is you do for kicks, because You. Have. Nothing. To. Offer. Me!"

All of sudden, Harris then heard the horn of the armored car begin honking furiously, as the First Evil folded up on itself and disappeared.

The armored car shuddered suddenly, and came to an abrupt stop. Xander swayed with the momentum of the vehicle, and his shoulders ached in pain from the sudden movement. "Damn," he choked out, as the pain threatened to distract from what was going on.

The soldier persona was not so easily distracted. { Get up! This is your chance. Get loose right now! } Xander started struggling, trying to get the handcuffs loose. He noticed that this time, unlike before where his captors had hooked them up to the roof, the Watchers had only looped them over a thin rod. He pulled hard, trying to get the rod to come loose.

But the rod stubbornly held in place. Xander grunted. { Okay, let's look at this from another angle... } The horn of the armored car continued honking, and Xander heard shouting outside. { Got to do this fast! } An idea then came to the captive.

He moved the fingers on his right hand in as close as he could, almost making his hand cone-shaped. The former soldier then started pulling it downward, as he grabbed the cuffs with his left hand and started pulling them upward. His skin quickly began bleeding, as it started being peeled off and scraped in the process.

Xander ignored the pain; back in the hell dimension, this would have been nothing more than a wake-up call, and he continued pulling. The blood acting as a lubricant, he felt his fist constrict and slide down a little bit. He just continued pulling.

Harris could see his skin being rubbed raw on his right wrist. He then heard a few clicks from his hand. { Damn, that's going to smart in the morning! } The pain mounted, as the guy relentlessly pulled the handcuffs upward with his left hand.

And then suddenly, the resistance lessened as his fist slipped through the handcuffs, his bloody right hand coming free. The left hand dropped down as the empty part of the handcuffs looped over the rod, and came down from the roof. { Yes! }

Xander absent-mindedly examined his right hand, as he got up. { Gonna need to get that looked at, afterwards. It's going to sting like crazy before too long. } He then moved to the doors at the rear of the compartment, already planning how to jimmy them open.

The former slave suddenly heard someone fidgeting with the doors on the outside. He just silently moved off to the side, out of the main line of sight, so as to surprise the enemy.

One of the doors opened up, and light spilled into the compartment. A small figure hesitantly climbed in, "Hello?"

Xander grabbed the intruder and pulled him further in, and was about to punch him; only stopping himself, when he saw it was a young girl. She twisted around, and looked at him with fear. Then her features lightened up a little bit, when she recognized Xander.

"It's you! Gladness. Don't worry, we're here to help..." She motioned to the outside. "Come on!" The young black woman started back out the door, as Xander quickly followed.

{ I know her, don't I? Yeah, yeah, from Los Angeles, a few weeks after I escaped from the hell dimension. She was with those kids I helped out, eliminating that vampire nest. } "I'm sorry, I don't-"

"It's Alonna. Alonna Gunn. It's okay, your dark-haired vampire friend told us you maybe might be a little hurt in the head. We gotta haul ass though, so come on!" She grabbed Xander's hand, the left one thankfully, and pulled him along.

Xander looked around. They were on the outskirts of a small airport, somewhere. The armored car had been hit in the engine compartment, by one of those tractors that had the 'follow me' signs. He saw the driver of his mobile cell laying on the ground, moving just enough to prove he wasn't dead.

A black teenager ran up to them. { Charles Gunn, } the name popped into Xander's head. { A damn good man to cover your rear in a war zone. Things are definitely looking up! }

"Hey, Soldier Guy. Good to see you intact..." He looked at Alonna. "I sent Bobby to bring the truck!"

Xander then heard the squeal of tires, and saw Gunn's old weapons-modified pickup truck come roaring to stop right in front of them, driven by another teenager.

"Get in!" he shouted out. The three of them tumbled into the cab, and Bobby roared off back down the runway, eager to get gone.

"Bloody toffing hell!" the leader of the retrieval squad yelled into his cell phone. "Where did they go, damn you?"

The MI-6 operative assigned as a liaison and consultant carefully noticed as the much-vaunted Watchers retrieval team started to fall apart, as things went wrong for them. He had been finishing his report to Cummings as they had driven up to the Lear jet, and were getting ready to board - when the Watcher's cell phone had rung.

The other Watchers milled around, looking concerned. They had expected to be airborne back to England by now. { You get the feeling they've never had problems like this before. No contingency plans, either. Useless amateurs... }

Everyone's attention was then pulled to the end of the runway, when they heard the roar of a jet engine. A small military fighter plane roared down the runway at almost treetop level, the Watchers moving their heads keeping track of it.

One of them spoke up as the plane reached the end of the runway, "You know, I could have sworn that one of the pilots was giving us the finger..."

{ Oh, no... } the English spy's stomach dropped, as he realized what was probably happening and about to happen. { Odds are all this has just gotten completely and totally beyond my control. Damn you for rostering me for external duty, Cummings! }

The man, whose real name was Roger Symons, looked up again and watched as the fighter plane looped back around, and came in for another run, only on a slightly different course. "Take cover!" he shouted, as the guy started to sprint away.

The Watchers looked at Symons in incomprehension, as he ran from the plane and van. They quickly followed him though, when the roar of the F-16's cannons reached their ears.

The intelligence operative and the Watchers threw themselves to the ground, as a stream of 20mm shells blasted their way along the runway until they reached the Lear jet, and proceeded to tear through the tail section of the aircraft like it was tissue paper.

Symons didn't have to look to know that his aeroplane was not going to be flying again, at least not anytime soon.

The operative just looked upwards. { I hope Cummings wasn't right, about who that's most likely going to be, } the man thought, as he watched the fighter start to land and taxi towards them. Symons then heard sirens in the distance and then knew beyond any doubt the whole thing had now become, as the Yanks liked to say, a complete cluster-fuck.

{ Bloody hell, now I'm in for it... } Symons glanced at the others near him, and began to distance himself both literally and figuratively. { Well, first things first. Establish the diplomatic creds, even if technically I'm here on the black. Try to request communicating with the embassy, or even better the head of section A - ah, damnation, this is going to be so embarrassing back home though! Then again... }

The professional spook suddenly stared at the Watchers and smiled, his survival instincts having a stroke of genius. { Yes, you lot definitely just became criminal kidnappers, and it's my patriotic duty to break cover and help the American law enforcement system put your sorry arses into prison... }

The fighter pulled up next to the Lear jet, and Symons noticed that it kept its cannons pointed in the direction of the Watchers. The canopy popped open, and one of the pilots clambered out of the cockpit. He dropped to the ground, and started stomping his way towards Xander's kidnappers.

One of the Watchers started to reach under his jacket for his sidearm. "I wouldn't," the trained professional called out.

The Watcher looked at him as Symons went on, "Their guns are much bigger than yours, and they'll use them to turn you into a piece of hamburger." He pointed at the F-16.

The Council operative thought for a second, and then reluctantly put his hands up. The leader of the retrieval team glowered at him. "What are you doing? We're Watchers!" But by this time, the pilot had reached to where the Watcher was.

"You're the leader of this group of idiots?!" the pilot snapped out. Symons silently cursed, it *was* who he'd thought it would be. { The violence level has just gone up dramatically, I'll wager... }

The retrieval leader spoke up. "See here, I'll have you-"

That was far as he got, before the Englishman was on the ground clutching his stomach. The brutal kick from Cleburne had taken him completely by surprise. The MI-6 adviser watched on, { Yes - somehow, I don't think he'll be reading us our rights for all this. }

Cleburne looked around. Several police cars and black SUVs pulled up, and started to disgorge men in uniforms and black suits. One of the people in the black suits had been one of the guards in the apartment. Joshua looked around, as he took off his flight helmet; his look one of sheer menace. "Which one of you kicked the kid's ribs after he was down?"

The Watchers looked at each other questioningly, suddenly resembling a pack of sheep; or better yet, airheaded Cordettes, from a long-ago age of lost innocence.

Symons had no such afflictions. "Him, most likely because he didn't like getting sprayed with hot coffee." He pointed at the leader, who was laying on the ground.

The guard from the apartment came up and looked at the leader. "Yes sir, I recognize him. They were all there." He pointed at Kennsington. "He was the one with the magic tricks and glittery light show."

Cleburne nodded. "Keep an eye on him. The guy even starts to try anything funny, shoot him in the head till his brains leak out of his ears!" The guard nodded. Cleburne then stalked up to where the leader was starting to get off the ground.

The Watcher stated angrily, "This is completely unacceptable! I demand-"

Again the team leader was unable to finish his sentence, as Cleburne hit him square in the face with the flight helmet he was holding in his hand. The leader fell back to the ground with a broken nose, as the STW agent followed up his advantage.

"I can understand the reasons for the snatch, and I'm not one to hold anything against you for taking advantage of our holes in security. But beating the kid up, after he was taken down? That does *not* make me happy. And when I'm unhappy, I'm never unhappy alone..."

Joshua reached down, grabbed the Watcher's right arm and pulled it up. He suddenly jerked it an impossible angle, and a sharp crack was the result. The Englishman screamed in pain, as Cleburne leaned down and looked directly into his face. "If I find out the kid has more than one broken rib, I'm going to break the other arm too - just for starters."

Cleburne got back up. "Where's Harris?" The Watchers just looked at their leader on the ground.

Symons answered again, "The man got a call, right before you arrived. Something unexpected happened with the package's transport."

Cleburne looked down at the Watcher, who was cradling his broken arm. "Well?"

The employee of the Council whimpered something about not knowing. Cleburne just reached down and grabbed his left arm. The Watcher started screaming again before he blubbered, "Someone rammed his transport over at the hangers. He got out of the armored car in all the confusion!"

Cleburne sighed. He turned to the police officers and operatives surrounding the Watchers, "Search everywhere. Find the guy, right now!" Several of the cops and STW personnel scurried off to do so, as the rest took over training their guns on the Watchers.

Cleburne stalked over to Symons. The spook braced himself, "Joshua Cleburne? I'm a cousin, my name is Roger Symons and I work for-"

Cleburne cut him off. "I already know who you work for, and most likely why you're here. Just gimme your damn cell phone!"

Symons instantly complied, handing it over. "Travers and the Watcher VIPs decided to travel separately?" Cleburne asked, as he started dialing a number on the cell phone.

Symons nodded. "The comfort level they were expecting was obviously insufficient to warrant traveling with the captive." He could not help but notice that the Watchers were being herded off to a waiting police van, while he was just being watched by the guard from the apartment building.

Cleburne looked at the guard. "We *will* talk later about your role in all this!" The guard visibly blanched. Cleburne then focused attention to the cell phone, as his call went through.

"It's me. Tomorrow. Army-Navy Club, 1:30 in the afternoon and bring that Travers asshole with you!" Cleburne growled into the phone. He then silently handed the phone back to Symons.

Xander lay silently in the grass, watching the scene on the runway unfold before him. Gunn, Alonna and Bobby lay next to him on top of a slight rise, about 300 yards from the runway. They had managed to get outside the fenced enclosure of the airport, before the police and black-ops personnel had swooped in.

"Man, who are those guys?" Gunn asked, referring to the suits rounding up the Watchers.

"Your tax dollars at work," Xander joked. "And oddly enough, technically also the good guys in this equation."

Bobby snuck a glance at Xander. "THEY'RE the good guys? You saw what he did to that one..."

"Trust me, I'm not going to lose any sleep over that guy's pain. As I've got the broken ribs to remind me of why he had it coming!" Xander shifted uncomfortably. With his adrenaline rush starting to fade, the pain from his mistreatment was starting to come to the forefront.

Alonna noticed Xander's discomfort. "Hey, soldier boy, we need to get you to a doctor or something." She pointed at his red right hand, "Especially for that!"

Xander waved her off. "No, I'll be all right for now."

Alonna looked again with concern at the bleeding hand and bruises that Xander sported. "What are you tryin' to prove, you got vamp healing or something? Don't be an asshole! We really need to get you looked at, pronto."

"And I said don't worry about it, that can wait."

Gunn noticed the look of concern Alonna had for Xander. { Damn, she really does have a crush on him! Oh well, white or not, guess she could do worse... } "What do you mean, it can wait? Because we need to haul tail outta here, dog! Sooner we're back in LA, the better," he motioned back towards the pickup truck.

Xander rolled over, and looked at the others. "Angel sent you?"

"Yeah, something about some spooky mystical types telling him you needed help," Gunn answered with a shrug.

{ True enough, } Xander thought, analyzing the situation dispassionately. { If they hadn't hit that armored car when they did, I probably would have gotten put on that plane and been airborne before STW arrived. Talk about cutting it close... }

The former slave smiled. "That I did. Thanks for saving my ass, you guys. So. How's tall, dark and brooding doing these days, anyway?"

Gunn snorted. "That's about it in a nutshell, bro; tall, dark and brooding. C'mon, man, what's the story with that? You really used to run with a vampire?"

"Very special case; Angel's been...modified, to the point where he's on the good side of the Force. As long as he doesn't get too happy, anyway, but that's a whole different story. I know it sounds impossible, but it's true - he's saved my life more than once. He got cursed by some gypsies over 100 years ago..."

"Yeah, dude mentioned that. But hell, you and him can tell us all about it once we're home. Can't wait to get back to California; goddamn, this place feels like it's Alaska or something!"

Xander smiled. "Be grateful it's not Illinois, you'd think we were at the North Pole! But thing is, I'm not going back with you."

"What!?" both Gunn and Alonna said at the same time.

Xander shrugged. "I can't come with you to LA."

"We went through all this trouble, drove across the entire country - including Texas, which was no fun for us I might add - and you're staying here?" Bobby demanded.

"Has to be done."

Xander had been shaken by the First's references to the Scooby gang. About Willow and the others making an appearance, the next time his nemesis showed up. { I can't protect them, even if I wanted to, not when I can't even be near them without my head exploding. And what's to stop the Bringers from making an early visit to the Scooby gang or LA in the meantime? } For now, their best protection rested with Xander helping the Siberians, and them providing covert protection in return.

Xander continued on, "Tell Angel that I'm all right for now, and what I've gotten caught up in - it involves the First Evil. He'll know what that means. Look, bottom line is, I have to stay away. Don't worry, though; Angel's a stand-up guy, if a little dark and tormented. So he'll be there for you, if or when you ever need him..."

"The First Evil?" Alonna looked at her crush in complete confusion.

"There's no time for details. Angel and his friend Wes can fill you in on all of it later..." Xander then thought for a second, and decided it would be best to leave another lifeline out there, just in case something like this ever happened again in the future.

"Tell him he can get in touch with me through a guy named Lemke, who lives in Sunnydale. It's a town about two hours north of LA, that's also known as la Boca del Infierno-"

"The mouth of Hell?" Bobby asked in amazement, his high school Spanish the best of the group.

Xander nodded. "Lemke runs a bookstore or something like that there. He can probably get a message through to me. But, it's a one-time-only thing; once that message is sent, he can't ever use that route again. Too risky. So tell Deadboy to play that card only if *absolutely* necessary."

"Deadboy?" Alonna raised her eyebrows in amusement.

Xander shrugged. "Sorry. Old habits die hard." He paused for a second. "This is important. Don't tell anyone what happened here or about me, without Angel telling you it's all right. That includes the friends he has hanging around." { Can't run the risk of Cordy and Wesley finding out about me. Who knows where that would end. }

Gunn shook his head. "This is crazy, Army Guy. You can't stay here! Next time, we may not be around in time to save you!"

"Charlie, you think I *want* any of this? Problem is, it's not like how it was in the good old days - when it was just us, versus the demons. Right now, I should be living in a cave in Canada, but there are people after me for what I know. And I hate to sound all Terminator, but they absolutely will not stop, ever, until I'm dead! I gotta do what I gotta do, to protect my people. It's an honor thing."

Gunn nodded in understanding. "I hear you. So what are y'all gonna do, then?"

"Catch a ride outta here with those guys," Xander said, as he got ready to stand up. "Again, thanks for saving my ass, I seriously owe you three. If I can, I'll arrange for supplies and whatnot to get to you on the Q.T. But for now, you'd best get out of here. Less questions all around, if they don't find you."

The others stood up at the same time Xander did. "Take care of yourself, Harris," Alonna said softly, as she hugged Xander.

"I will. You too," the former soldier said fervently as he shook hands with the guys and walked off, not knowing that it was the last time he would ever see Alonna Gunn alive.

**Takoma Park, Maryland. The next day**

Xander woke up, trying to shake off the mental cobwebs. The medication the doctors had given yesterday him had helped him sleep peacefully, and for that he was eternally grateful.

"Good morning, Mr. Harris."

Xander opened his eyes, and saw Irving Hollins sitting in a chair at the foot of the bed that he was in. "Morning?"

"Well, it's almost time for lunch. You've been sleeping for quite a while. The doctors felt it was best to let you rest. You've not really been fully awake, ever since they brought you here yesterday afternoon. Don't worry though, I had them bring you some lunch." Hollins motioned at the tray on the table next to the bed.

"Where am I, anyway?"

"A private medical clinic STW uses in situations like this. The quality of the medical care here is quite excellent, and also very discreet."

Xander reached over to grab a roll off the tray. He was subsequently rewarded with a sharp stabbing pain in his ribcage.

Hollins nodded. "Be careful. The doctors tell me you don't have any broken ribs, but it will still hurt quite strongly for a while."

Xander almost swallowed the roll whole, he was that famished. "Any other things I need to know?"

"Well, no broken bones, although that was not from any lack of trying by your captors. And your right wrist is still pretty well mangled. What happened with that, by the way? The doctors seemed to think it was self-inflicted."

"It was, I had to slip out of a pair of handcuffs. No big deal."

Hollins grimaced. "Still painful to imagine though, in my opinion. When you can, I want to hear all about your escapade yesterday."

"Wanting is good," Xander said as he gingerly maneuvered himself to get access to all the food on the tray. Hollins raised an eyebrow at that comment. "But first, what happens next? And did I get to number one target in the world today?"

The child nodded sadly. "Probably yes, there are quite a few groups out there who are no doubt waiting to make their own move to acquire you."

{ He could have lied, but he didn't. Told me the truth straight up-front, and didn't sugarcoat it. Decent of him, } Xander noticed. "I thought the whole point of moving around so much was to confuse the bad guys as to where I was, so how the hell did the Watchers find me?"

"Their superior knowledge of the occult. I'm sorry; it was our fault for not being fully cognizant of the dangers of that aspect of the situation. My own fault especially, as I am ultimately responsible for analysis of the available data."

Xander raised an eyebrow. "Do tell."

Hollins stated calmly, "Apparently last fall, they broke into your parents' house and stole some of your personal belongings. Then they used the items in a spell that could track your aura, or soul. They had to cast it several times, to narrow it down to whatever city you were in. Once they knew that, they flew to Chattanooga using the cousins as support, did another locator spell, found you and popped in using a teleportation spell."

Xander sighed. "What's to stop that from ever happening again?"

"We're in the process of recruiting several Wiccans and warlocks to help out. The plan is to have them cast a masking spell, or something like that over you. Or else get some sort of amulet to do the job, if that's what it takes. Ah, I was wondering; given your greater familiarity with the supernatural, do you have any ideas of your own?"

Harris looked thoughtful. "When I was living in LA, about a month or so before I got all my memories back? I ran into this trio of awesome-looking babes, who called themselves the Transuding Furies." He then smirked, "They're into magic in a big way, and I think they'll remember me. Get someone to contact them."

Hollins nodded. "Thank you for the suggestion. I wish we'd known of them sooner - but then, we're still on the learning curve with the entire magic thing..."

Xander finished chewing on the pork chop bite he had taken, and swallowed. "Well, learn quick. You've only got two or three years, before the First gets into 'destroy the world' mode. Maybe even sooner than that."

Hollins raised an eyebrow at this. "How so?"

"The First Evil gave me a couple of private audiences, while I was with the Watchers. It's definitely on the prowl, and seems to know there's something hinky going on." Xander then gave a bare-bones version of what had happened with the First to Hollins.

"This is most disturbing. I had hoped that we would have resolved the situation with al-Qaeda completely, before dealing with all that," the child genius mused.

"You may not have that luxury anymore. So, we can add the First to the list of those people looking for me."

Hollins thought for a second. "You're right. You should also know the operatives who have been watching-"

"Guarding," Xander corrected.

Hollins nodded. "-guarding you, seem to think your ability is fairly impressive. A review of the video footage of the attack shows that you handled yourself quite well. The only reason the enemy was able to accomplish their objective, was that they had paranormal assistance. Against more mundane opponents, you would have held them off long enough for the guards to arrive."

The Soldier Guy persona within Xander noted with appreciation the analytic comment by Hollins. "Still, that kinda reminds me of the old saying that close only matters with horseshoes and hand grenades."

"True, but if you prove you can handle yourself, it makes my new proposal all the more easier to sell to my fellow Siberians."

"And that is?" Xander poked at the Jell-O with a spoon. { Damn it, why does every hospital meal have to come with Jell-O in it? It's gotta be some sorta evil conspiracy! }

"You've been advising us on the supernatural threat, and I feel that it's time for you to be an advisor in the field. Let us use your abilities against the paranormal. Of course, there is an obstacle to that."

"And that is?" Xander repeated himself, as he gave up and took a bite of the Jell-O.

"Cleburne. He's very territorial when it comes to field operations, and he exercises close to a veto over the mechanics of them. Arbitrarily overruling him would lead to complications, down the road. However, if Joshua feels you can truly handle yourself as part of his crew, he would be more inclined to accept my proposal."

Xander looked at Hollins skeptically. "What will he do, put me through an audition?"

"Actually, he's been known to do exactly that before now. But I think after viewing the videofeed of your little fight and talking to the guards, he could be persuaded to give you a shot. There's also another advantage to you working in the field."

Hollins reached over a grabbed a cookie off of Xander's lunch tray, the first childlike action the older male had ever seen out of him. "Pardon me, but I indulge myself every once in a while..."

The boy took a bite out of the cookie and continued, "You may or may not know, that there are various unwritten rules within the espionage world. One of them is that the members of each organization are generally not specifically targeted, by another organization. It *is* more-or-less accepted that losses will occur; such are the fortunes of the craft. However, aiming at individual members crosses a line, and disrupts the uneasy understanding that exists between the players of the game. It also leads to retaliation, reprisals and on occasion the risk of an overt war. Open warfare is not good for those in this business; it leads to questions being asked by the governments overseeing the organizations, which is something almost always to be avoided."

Xander nodded, as memories of his time with the Scoobies years ago flashed through his brain. Incidents with MOO and the Sunnydale PD getting involved, for example, and proving that Hollins was quite right. "I agree."

"Good. But my point is with you becoming a legitimate member of STW, the other espionage agencies out there will think long and hard about coming after you the way the Watchers did. No one really wants a war with us. I imagine they'll still try every once in a while, given what you are, but it'll be in a much more subtle way. Our main concern will be the paranormal groups; we'll concentrate our resources there. And they'll be far less effective, if the mundane ones won't be supporting them. The real reason the Watchers got as close as they did, was that they had ground support from the cousins."

"Cousins? I've heard that reference before, somewhere. What's it mean, exactly?"

"It's what the American and British spy agencies refer to each other as. There's been an incredibly close cooperation between them, you see, ever since the end of World War 2. That's why there is now currently a real hullabaloo, to quote Joshua, over your kidnapping. To use an analogy, imagine the family situation if a man had basically spat in his brother's face and tried to abduct his own nephew."

Xander nodded. "I can see where that can be disturbing."

Hollins went on, "Indeed, that's why Joshua and Esther aren't here. They're meeting in about an hour or so with the local representatives of the cousins, to convey their feelings over this situation."

Xander perked up. "Are the Watchers going to be there?"

Hollins looked a little surprised by the question. "I believe so. This Quentin Travers person is supposed to be there, at any rate. His presence was specifically requested."

"The meeting place - it isn't far from here, is it?"

Now Hollins was worried. "No, as a matter of fact it's over at the Army-Navy Club..."

Xander smiled a feral, animalistic grin that actually chilled Hollins' blood a little bit. "Good." He started to get out of bed.

"Mr. Harris? Xander? What-"

"Irving, last time I spoke with Travers, I was unable to convey to him certain facts of life - what with me being handcuffed and all. Now, well, let's just say it's gonna be a little different."

**Private dining room, Army-Navy Club, Washington D.C. 1:45 PM**

Alec Cummings massaged his temples. This meeting was not going at all well.

Normally, being MI-6 station chief in Washington D.C. was a plum job. Mostly acting as liaison with the cousins, over various exchanges and joint operations; also occasionally playing at being a diplomat. A nice change of pace, as it were, from the usual espionage duty where secrecy, death and fear of betrayal were your constant companions.

{ Yes, it was very nice, until those Watcher Council arses came along with their politically influenced orders from London. } This entire hare-brained scheme of theirs had failed, and more importantly had really ticked off Siberian Trip Wire; the one agency in the U.S. spy community that Cummings *knew* made it a point of holding a grudge.

And Travers, the head of the Watchers delegation, was not helping things in any way, shape or form - what with how he was lecturing Marcum and Cleburne right now. Alec honestly wished his compatriot was not here; the man was only showing his ignorance of the faux pas they had committed, and the repercussions that were sure to follow.

In any case, Cummings' attempts to play peacemaker had failed miserably; and the discussion had grown quite heated over the last 15 minutes. Marcum had interjected quite often, as she sat between Joshua and Travers.

But Cleburne hadn't said a word the whole time, which given his reputation honestly worried Alec Cummings. Quite a bit.

Travers raised his voice, "The sad fact is, you're completely ignorant of the true ramifications over the existence of Xander Harris! You have no idea of what you're dealing with; you're like children, sticking your fingers into the pretty-looking fire. You should leave it to the professionals, and go play your cloak and dagger games elsewhere! We are equipped to handle this, not you. Turn Mr. Harris over to us, and-"

"He's an American citizen, not a British one." Those were the first words Cleburne had spoken during the entire meeting.

Travers glared at him. "Yes, and while we're on the subject; the way you treated our retrieval team is absolutely criminal!"

That caused Cummings to raise an eyebrow. He had personally debriefed Symons, and been told in great detail of all that the Watchers' team had done. { Damn it, Travers, please shut up about that... }

But the Englishman continued on, not caring the double standard he was applying. "Broken arms, physical violence and threats. These are criminal acts!"

"As opposed to kidnapping a U.S. citizen?" That was Marcum.

"There's no comparison at all. We're acting for the greater good; you're acting solely for your own petty interests. Mr. Harris should be examined and studied back in England, after that man is arrested and prosecuted!" he pointed at Cleburne.

Cummings noticed that Marcum had picked up her glass of water off of the table. He then realized that it had been in the path between Cleburne and Travers. { Uh-oh, } the MI-6 station chief thought as he saw Marcum subtly nod to Cleburne.

Joshua moved so suddenly, that Alec honestly didn't have time to blink before Travers was face-down on the table, being pulled out of his chair by the back of his neck by the American.

The female Watcher, the woman named Lydia who had accompanied Travers on this assignment, yelped and bolted up away from the table, her hands covering her mouth. Marcum just pushed herself back from the table to get out of the way.

The woman's scream also caused noise to occur from outside the room, where the aides and bodyguards were waiting. But Cummings had no doubts as to how a confrontation between the Siberians and the Watchers would turn out.

Travers, by now, was completely across the table. "What the - unhand me immediately, you sordid ruffian!" he shouted.

Cleburne responded by punching the Watcher so hard, that he ended up against the wall. Travers went down wheezing, as Cleburne walked over to a window and kicked out the glass. The broken shards fell four floors to the alley below.

Alec did nothing as Cleburne reached over, and grabbed the now-terrified Travers by the lapels of his jacket. The STW agent hissed, "Say good night, you stuck-up piece of-"

"Hold on a second. He's mine."

Everyone in the room looked at the source. There in the doorway, stood Xander with Hollins next to him. Several bodyguards flanked them.

{ So this is the source of all the trouble, } Cummings thought, as he drank in the sight of the modern-day Cassandra of Troy. Then he saw Xander's eyes, and instantly took a step back. { Good God, the man's gone mad... }

Xander advanced into the room towards Travers. Cleburne thought about it for a second, and then let go of Travers' lapels. The Brit fell to the ground, gasping.

Travers started to push himself up, with his back to the wall. "Alexander Harris, by the authority of..."

That was as far as he got, before Quentin felt the whoosh of air near his ear as a knife thudded into the wall to the left of his head, by just a few inches. Xander's left hand remained extended for a moment, from where he had thrown it.

Cleburne nodded his head, obviously impressed. Travers was just wide-eyed and speechless, as Xander approached. "Good throw," Cleburne complimented Xander.

"Not really, I was aiming to put the knife next to his right ear."

Cleburne shrugged. "We'll work on that later."

Xander walked to where Travers was and leaned down. "Quentin, I could make you scream. I could make you die," Harris said with an ugly look on his face, echoing the words that Faith the vampire Slayer had spoken in another reality.

He then grabbed Travers by the throat. "And there would be nothing, *nothing* you could do to stop me. The only reason I won't? It's the fact that the days of you and your sorry organization are already numbered..."

Xander paused, assessing his former captor's astonishment and the situation as a whole. "You still want me? Then think about this; there are people willing to kill you for that now. You ever wondered what it's like, to live in fear of your life? A car bomb outside your house. Poison in your favorite restaurant food. Even cyanide in your expensive cigars! Any of your Watcher Council buddies, the same can be said. So you remember all that, the next time you get any bright ideas of me being given an-all-expenses paid trip to England."

"I will not sit here and listen to this-"

Then Quentin Travers howled, as Xander let go and kicked him in the groin.

Hard.

Twice.

As the former soldier started to walk away, he suddenly stopped and turned back around. "Also, if anything happens to Kennedy on her 18th birthday? I'll hold you *personally* responsible. In the end, you will be *begging* me to kill you..."

Travers was more shocked than ever, as his dazed mind fought to recover from his ordeal. { He knows who the new Slayer is. Damn. What else does he know? Blast it, we have to find out, and to hell with all the stupid threats! }

As Xander exited the room, Cleburne walked over and got the knife out of the wall. He looked down at Travers. "Unit, Corps, God and Country."

Quentin was honestly confused. "What?"

"Unit, Corps, God and Country. Which means in this case, that we'll help in whatever the kid does to you and your entire damn Council. We've got his back on this, understand? You're not just dealing with him now, you're dealing with all of us in Siberian Trip Wire. You want a war? You've got one."

"This isn't over!" Travers shouted, massaging his privates as the male agent turned away.

"For you, here, it is," Cleburne announced calmly, turning around again. "You and your people have until the morning to get out of my country, and never come back-"

"I don't respond well to idle threats!" the Watcher said heatedly, causing Cummings to grimace.

Joshua Cleburne merely smiled. "Oh, I'm not threatening you. I'm just telling you that your face is going to be hitting the newspapers and TV screens all around the country tomorrow, for attempting to kidnap a U.S. citizen. Someone who 'unidentified sources close to the investigation' will say, was a Federal witness against a Las Vegas organized crime syndicate. The police and FBI will have orders to arrest you on sight, as you *will* be on their Top Ten Most Wanted list for the foreseeable future. And this is all due to an undercover MI-6 agent's report to his superiors, about your criminal activities."

Travers looked in disbelief at Cummings, who was already staring at Cleburne; the British spook then shrugged and accepted the peace offering with a nod, knowing when to cut his losses and try to restore some good will around here. { And what's more, it'll finally get this amateur out of my hair... }

He turned to the Watcher, "It's not as bad as it sounds; given your contacts, I'm sure you'll not be a wanted man back home. But you have publicly embarrassed Her Majesty's government in this country, Mr. Travers, and my latest orders from London are to repair the damage you've caused. So I suggest you accept the situation for what it is, and leave the U.S. while you're still able to do so."

"This is outrageous!" the British man screamed.

Cleburne looked over at the female Watcher named Lydia, who still had a look of shock on her face. "A nice girl like you should find another line of work." He then looked back at Travers.

"The clock is ticking. And if you want a preview of what I might do to you and your Council, ask Cummings to tell you about Beirut 1983." With that Cleburne pocketed the knife, and led the other people from STW out of the dining room.

TBC...


	5. Chapter 5

**Part Five**

**Mid-Atlantic Tractor Pull, Richmond, Virginia. April, 2000**

Alec Cummings couldn't believe he was actually here in this part of the U.S., watching a tractor pull of all things.

When the ticket to this event had been delivered to his office, the spy had almost instantly tossed it into the garbage in disgust. Only reason he hadn't, was that he had spotted the large blue S written on the back of the envelope.

So, it was time for the cloak and dagger stuff. And thus Cummings found himself in a crowded hall watching large farm implements being driven through dirt and mud, with his ears assaulted by the roar of their engines.

He then noticed that the empty seat next to him was now occupied.

"Sunday, Sunday Sunday," Cleburne joked in an imitation of the way television announcements for these events sounded.

"Interesting place you wanted to meet in," Cummings observed.

Cleburne smiled. "Well, how many people from the craft do you think would normally be here on a Friday night? And I'm damn sure that no one from the Watchers Council, would be caught within ten miles of a tractor pull. This way, our conversation stays very private."

The MI-6 station chief nodded at that. { Makes sense, in its own way. } "You're probably enjoying this?" Cummings remarked to his fellow intelligence operative.

"Enjoying watching you be uncomfortable? Oh, yeah. After all, you made me fly across the Atlantic in a small fighter jet, with no lavatory facilities. I really did *not* enjoy that plane ride, cuz. So you being uncomfortable at an event you have absolutely no comprehension of, is just a little bit of payback."

Cummings swallowed nervously. "Ah, about that..."

Cleburne continued on, not giving him a chance to finish. "You know, it strikes me that with your duties as liaison between our two countries' intelligence services, you're in a pretty good position to know things. For example, the fact that we share our electronic intercept capability with you, should give ya a pretty good idea of what we're capable of..."

He glanced over at the British spy. "And yet, you had your guy Symons reporting regularly to you. On your personal extension at the embassy, no less. A phone line you knew we would probably be monitoring, the moment we realized that a cousin was involved in the snatch. And while we're on the subject, why even have one of your operatives on the retrieval team? You musta known there was a pretty good chance we would recognize him. Particularly one of yours, that was based in Washington."

Cummings looked embarrassed. "Mistakes happen..."

"Let's can the games here, pal. Never mind that we woulda searched every warehouse, henhouse, outhouse and whorehouse to find the kid; you of all people know the NSA can intercept every cell phone call in the world. Particularly with that whole mess over Prince Charles years ago! And yet, you have your guy making regular phone calls to you every hour. You might as well have had him fire off flares, for us to find the guy..."

Cleburne looked at the arena floor and let out a big yell, as a monster truck rumbled towards a series of lined-up junk cars. Then he turned to his companion. "You wanted that mission to fail. The question is, why?"

Cummings stayed silent for a second. "As I said, mistakes happen. Of course, the mistakes I refer to were made by the bloody Watchers - when they started that entire mess. And their supporters in Whitehall, who ordered us to help them." He sighed, "I knew from the beginning that there was no way we could ever hide our involvement in the scheme, particularly when we learned that Mr. Harris was in *your* custody."

"I suspected that would have worried you."

Cummings shrugged. "My superiors back home were not ready to sacrifice the relationship we've shared for the last 60 years for the...hide-bound Watchers, no matter what the crisis. The Watchers don't watch our backs..."

"But we do. Still, we both know this is going to put a crimp in the trust for a while. Maybe as bad as back when everyone finally figured out Philby really was a Red spy."

Alec tried his best not to wince at past horrors. Kim Philby, the most notorious defector in British history, had operated undetected for decades within the British spy services - until the Americans figured out he was spying for the Soviet Union. MI-6 had refused to believe it at first, and then had had quite a bit of egg on its face when they had been proven wrong.

"Understandable, of course; we were scared of what the fallout would be, if the mission had succeeded."

Cleburne leaned back. "With good reason. I would have been *really* mad, as opposed to just incredibly annoyed."

Cummings silently wondered what it would be like to witness the American really mad, as he was worrisome enough when merely annoyed. "So what now?"

"Well, I'm not foolish enough to think that Travers and his Watchers will just gracefully give in and fade away into the woodwork. And neither are you."

The Englishman shrugged again. "True enough."

"So, we get to play ourselves a little game of the carrot and the stick."

Cummings figured he may as well get the worst part out of the way first. "And the stick is?"

"There are so many ways we can cause you pain, on so many different levels, it's not even funny. On the personal asset front, 24-hour surveillance by the FBI. On the broad policy thing, a lot of stuff can change in ways harmful to UK interests. Intelligence sharing could completely dry up, for example; or fiscal and monetary issues can be shifted to really screw up your economy. Number 10 Downing Street will not like that. And then, there's the really nasty stuff..."

Cleburne continued on, clapping eagerly as the monster truck started to crush the junk cars under its wheels, "We could start taking active black-ops measures to harm your interests. NORAID, for one, comes to mind."

The British spy's blood froze at the mention of NORAID; back in the 1970s, it had funneled guns and money to the IRA from American supporters. It had also caused immense problems, between the two countries. Just the mere mention of it now was able to raise horrifying thoughts in the mind of this operative, who had battled more than his fair share of Irish terrorists in the past.

Somehow, Alec managed to talk in a somewhat even voice. "And the carrot?"

"Same deal we have with the Mormons. We share what info is appropriate and relevant to your situation. We also share information on the paranormal threat. Personally I think you'll like that, makes you less dependent on the Watchers back home."

Cummings looked confused. "You have a deal with the Mormons? Symons said Mr. Harris made some comment about them, during his captivity..."

"Yeah, they give us access to their records on the supernatural, in exchange for information from the debriefings. The church's library is quite extensive on some things. They also have some field experience that they're willing to share; it's one of the reasons there aren't any vampires in Utah. Oh yeah, they also get the right to send missionaries to visit Harris, once or twice a month. They're trying to convert him," Cleburne shrugged at that.

Cummings' eyebrow raised at that. "Do we get to send people?"

"No. You got to earn that level of trust all over again, after the recent escapade."

Cummings nodded, he'd expected no less. "And you get what, in return?"

"First off, you send up a red flag when the Watchers get up to something we need to know about. They're not good enough to mount covert operations without sending out signals; and given the situation, you'll probably get wind of those signals before we do."

"And second?"

"The FBI's noticed in the last week or so, the disappearance of several teenage girls. Now, in a country our size, that's a sad fact of life; they often head for the big city, to either become waitresses, strippers or Vegas showgirls. But in these cases, there are reports of individuals with English accents in the area at the time of the disappearances. Several disappearances were headed off, after a nationwide law enforcement alert was sent out about a UK-based cult kidnapping teenaged girls."

Cummings then realized he had heard about that. At first, he'd thought it was just a mundane law enforcement problem, but now he realized it was *his* problem. { Damn. Potential Slayers? Those bloody Watchers, they don't know when to stop... }

Cleburne continued on, "It appears to me that a lot of good will could be spread around, if these girls - all of whom are American citizens, by the way - were to be reunited with their families and left alone. Wouldn't you agree?"

Cummings nodded, already planning a meeting with the liaison to MI-5. "That would seem to be conducive to the improvement of relations. I'm sure that Her Majesty's government would seek to facilitate the return of the young ladies, if or when they're found within our borders."

"All of them," Cleburne said flatly. "Including the one called Kennedy."

"I'm sure you already know that will be very difficult." Whoever this Kennedy was, Travers had been extremely shaken up at Xander mentioning her name in the Army-Navy Club last week. Cummings had no doubts the Council would not want to give her up easily, or at all.

"Just because it's difficult, doesn't mean you can't do it. Your government can be downright ruthless when the circumstances call for it...as can be mine."

"Anything else?"

"You'll know if there is." And with that, Cleburne got up and walked away.

**Lemke's Book Treasury, Sunnydale, California. April, 2000**

The chimes sounded melodiously, as the door to the bookstore swung open. Willow Rosenberg and Tara Maclay walked in with book bags slung over their shoulders, and the early afternoon sun at their backs.

"Afternoon, ladies!" called the owner of the store, standing behind the counter. "What can I do for you today?"

"Well, Mr. Lemke-" Willow started, till she saw the frown on the bookstore owner's face and corrected herself. "-sorry, Josef, we have some books we need to get. Class assignments and all that." She held up a list.

"Here, let me take a look..." Lemke reached over, and accepted the list from Willow. "Hmmm, I should have most of these books. A few will be in the back with the special collection. Just wait a few minutes, and I'll see what I can do. There's some tea over next to the fiction section, if you want please help yourselves..." the guy said somewhat absently, as he wandered to the back room.

Willow smiled, as she went over to the teapot and poured both Wiccans a cup of tea. "Y'know, I really like it that this store is open. It's much nicer and cozier than the chain bookstores we previously had to go to."

Tara sipped the tea. "I'll, I'll have to take your word for it, sweetie. Remember, while I've been here since 1999, I-I've known you less than a year; a-a-and this store had been open longer than that."

"Not by much." Willow pondered for second. { Goddess - it's been a hectic seven months, hasn't it? No real Big Bad, only several medium bads and an awful lot of little bads running around... }

The college year had started out with the Scoobies dealing with the vampire bitch - Willow knew of no other way to put it - named Sunday, hiding out in an old abandoned fraternity house. Buffy had come back from summer break down on her game, and it had taken a few days for her to get back in the slaying groove.

Although Willow and Giles had finally been able to get her back into the Slayage mood, they just didn't have the gift to motivate someone - unlike the late, never-to-be-forgotten Xander Harris. Willow missed Xander's easy ability to cheer people up, back in the good old years of high school; and even though she was gay now, she missed *him* too.

Then after Sunday was dust had come Buffy's soul-sucking demon roommate, the so-called Kathy Newman. Followed up by the return of Harmony, their former classmate from high school, who was now a vampire.

And then there was the nightmare of what had happened with Oz...

The female werewolf Veruca had had sex with her boyfriend more than once, when she had found them in his cage. Willow had been devastated, and it had been made even worse when the wolfed-out Oz had later killed Veruca right in front of her. Oz had left Sunnydale almost immediately afterwards in despair, despite her pleas for him not to...

Which had put Willow into such horrible emotional pain that it had spanned across the dimensions, and attracted the attention of a vengeance demon named Anyanka.

Late last year, the 1120-year-old creature had appeared to Willow as a co-ed named Anya to grant a Wish. Willow, not realizing what was going on, had off-handedly wished that people would just do what she wanted, for once in her life. After all, she had wanted Oz to stay, but he had abandoned her...

And then Willow, all of a sudden, had found herself with the power to make people do things with just her words alone; the ultimate 'my will be done' curse. Something which had had Anyanka, D'hoffryn and many other of the denizens of the demon dimension Arash ma'har laughing their asses off...

Of course, Willow hadn't realized what was going on at first, and had made a few comments she now wished she hadn't; such as her complaining that Buffy spent so much time with Giles these days, that she should just go ahead and marry him.

The image of the two of them kissing still caused Willow to shiver, whenever she thought of it. And she hoped - she *really* hoped - that Giles hadn't had time to sample both the mother *and* the daughter, thanks to those cursed magicks. Because if so, there weren't enough baked cookies in the world to ever make up for that.

It had taken her a few hours to figure out what was going on, during which things had gotten worse - Amy being only briefly de-ratted, for example. But finally, the Willster had figured out that the co-ed she had met must somehow have been behind all this, and confronted her about it; well, after a bit of research and the incantation to summon her was found.

A knock-down, hair-pulling, really vicious catfight had subsequently taken place. But after Anyanka went all vein-y on her, Willow had let loose with the dark magicks she had tapped into once before, when taking on Spike and Dru the day they'd sent Xander to Hell. And she'd accidentally crushed the necklace pendant, that was the source of the vengeance demon's powers.

Everything had returned back to normal, the incredible damage to Giles' condo disappearing as Anyanka became trapped into her identity as a mortal 20-year-old college student.

Anya Jenkins - the woman previously destined to love Xander Harris with all her heart - was born.

{ Boy, was she *not* happy about that. She spent most of November and December trying to get her powers back. Kept annoying everyone! And the Goddess knows, if even half the things she said I did were true... }

But still, Anya had gotten to the point where she now helped out on occasion, as well as eagerly pursuing her business major at UC Sunnydale. Giles seemed very interested in her knowledge of the occult - so she was gradually, and unhappily at that, becoming a member of the Scoobies.

The upcoming arrival of Y2K had seen a big change in Willow Rosenberg's life. The Gentlemen had come to Sunnydale to collect seven hearts, and rendered the whole town mute. And during that crisis, Willow had bonded with Tara. She hadn't expected to ever fall for a woman - the redhead had spent *years* planning her wedding to Xander, after all - but completely fall for Tara she eventually did.

Buffy had been able to defeat the Gentlemen, although she had been helped by a masked man in fatigues that night; someone who had broken that box, to release the voices. Even now, the Scoobies still hadn't been able identify who it was; but since he had never been seen again, there wasn't much they could do about it.

And immediately afterwards, there had come that thing with the Vahrall demons wanting to open the Hellmouth, and destroy the world. Willow still had nightmares about finding that corpse that way; but luckily Anya had identified the Word of Valios in Giles' possession before the demons could find the darn thing and crushed it, ending the threat potential.

Then they'd had to deal with the rising of the demon prince Barvain, on Buffy's birthday of all days. { And oh my Goddess, but that was *such* a mess. Took us two months to finally deal with him! } Willow thought to herself.

She did not - she could not - know that in another world, the demon prince had been prevented from arising by the Initiative, long before the Scoobies had gotten involved; as that organization was something that had never existed, in this reality.

Well, things might have been easier if Ethan Rayne hadn't also shown up and turned Giles into a Fyarl demon for laughs, back then. Ethan had then fled town after learning of Barvain's presence, and turning Giles back into a human being had definitely distracted the Scoobies for a while there.

Then a month ago, Oz had returned. Even though he had learned to control his inner wolf, *his* arrival back in town had not gone at all well either.

When the guy had caught the scent of Willow on Tara and finally figured things out, he had lost control and attacked the blonde Wicca. If not for Buffy arriving in the nick of time in that UC Sunnydale hallroom, Tara might have been seriously hurt by the werewolf. So Oz had left town after that, afraid of losing control again - and Willow hadn't heard anything from him, since.

And now, yet another crisis had arisen. During the last few months, someone had started unifying the vampires of Sunnydale under one leader. For what purpose the gang wasn't sure, but it couldn't be good - because the lessons of Spike and Angelus had been forever engraved into the minds of the core Scoobs.

In any case - all that the good guys knew for certain was that it involved unicorns, for some strange reason...

So Giles had sent the two of them to find whatever books they could, on the magical aspects of unicorns. The lesbian duo had gotten several at the local tarot shop, that would one day be called the 'Magic Box'; and the owner, Mr. Hasim, had suggested that the few they couldn't find, might be found at Lemke's bookstore next door. Willow had nodded and added the books they were looking for to the list of books they were going to get for schoolwork.

Ever since Lemke's had opened, Willow had been spending more and more time there. It seemed to have a decent collection of occult and Wiccan lore; and even if it hadn't, Willow enjoyed the atmosphere of the store. As said, it was much more personal than the chain stores that seemed to be popping up everywhere these days.

Lemke came out from the back room, carrying four books. "Here you go. I don't have _Martel's Guide to Magical Creatures_, but I have a friend I can special-order it from; I should have it in by the end of the week. Will that be all right?"

Willow nodded, as she accepted the books from the STW agent. "That'll be fine. The other books on the list won't be a problem?"

Lemke smiled broadly, literally towering over the two Wiccans. "Not at all, they're over here in the stacks. I'll help you get them..."

{ Personal service, } Willow thought with a smile, as she and Tara followed the bookstore owner around. { Very nice. } It was another reason Willow liked coming here. Lemke really loved running the bookstore, and it showed.

He really didn't look the part of a bookstore owner, being a real giant of man. Looked more like a professional linebacker, if anything. However, his personality was that of a book lover, no doubt. His treasured possessions were the first editions of many books, that he kept under lock and key underneath the counter.

{ Well, them and his wife... } Willow knew Mrs. Lemke worked as an accountant, as she actually did the books for Buffy's mom Joyce's art gallery. They had just learned that the couple was going to have their first child, too.

"Kind of odd books here for college class, I have to say," Lemke commented, rousing Willow from her musings.

"Sorry?"

"Those books from the special collection," the spy said, as he handed a book on Spanish literature to Tara.

"They're...uh, th-they're for a class on ancient mythology, at UC Sunnydale," Tara stuttered out in response, but good enough to cover - she hoped.

Willow smiled at her lover. { She looks so darn cute when she stammers like that! } Tara caught the look, and couldn't help but smile back.

Unnoticed now, Lemke glanced at them. { Ancient mythology? Yeah, right. And to think I might have actually bought that - if Xander hadn't clued me in on what *really* goes on in this town, back in Illinois! How the *heck* does the Hellmouth manage to put so many people into complete denial? As it would make for the perfect weapon, with regards to stealth operations! } the retired black-ops agent thought to himself.

Josef snapped out of it and mused, "Well, it's amazing all that they teach at college now. Sure is a lot different, from back in my day..."

He then continued on, "You know, if you're really into this Wiccan and witchcraft stuff? I might be able to dig up some of my great-grandmother's things. Back in the old country, everyone thought she was some kind of witch or something. And when my mother died, I wound up with a whole bunch of books she had been left by her grandma."

Willow perked up at that. "Oh, that would be great! We could get some extra credit for it in class..." { Best not to let him know what we might really do with it, } the redhead thought privately, not realizing that Lemke knew a helluva lot more than they gave him credit for - at the moment.

"Sure, I'll try to dig the books up later this week. They're in the spare room, and Joan's been wanting me to fix it up as a nursery. This way, I can kill two birds with one stone." He led the two witches over to the computer section. The guy then looked down the list, "Hmmmm, yes, I think this one is up here..."

Lemke picked a book off of the top shelf without a stepladder, which was an advantage of being as tall as he was, and handed it to Willow. "Say, you're pretty good with the computer, aren't you?"

Willow took the book, and added it to the pile she already had. The book pile looked too large in Willow's hands, which it was, so Tara reached over and took several of them for herself. Willow smiled in thanks. "Oh, I can do quite a bit on the computer," she then said in reply. "Knowledge Girl, that's me."

"Want to make some extra money?"

"In what way?" Willow asked.

"I was wanting to get a spreadsheet program or something set up, to track inventory. Of course, my skills in the computer field aren't really up to the task. So I was thinking of posting a job notice on the bulletin boards at the community college; but since you walked right in, I figured why not ask you first?"

Willow smiled. "I'd be happy to do it. I can try to swing by later on this week, if that's okay?"

Lemke smiled back at her. "Great, we can talk money and I can have my great-grandma's stuff for you by then too." { 'Course, this also means I can keep a closer eye on you and your friends. And that should make the higher-ups happy. }

**Student Union Building, University of California, Sunnydale Campus**

Buffy made her way across the student lounge. She had gotten out of class a few minutes earlier, and wanted to grab a quick snack. The blonde also hoped to get some quick studying and other normal college student stuff done while the sun was up, before she had to deal with the Slayer side of her life.

"Hey, Buffy!"

The Slayer turned to see who had called out to her, and saw a tall, black-haired 19-year-old guy waving at her. She headed over to the table where he was sitting; and arriving at the table Buffy gave the boy a passionate kiss, as she sat down in the chair next to him.

"Hey, Jeff, how's my favorite boyfriend doing?"

"Favorite boyfriend? You have more than one? Oh, now you know I don't like competitive games!"

Buffy just smiled at him. "Are you still upset that I had another boyfriend named Jeffrey, when I was 15 years old? Don't worry sweetie, I'll fix the competition so that you win..."

It was something of a miracle after what had happened with her first love, but the Slayer *had* moved on like the ensouled vampire had wanted. After a rough start due to her fling with Parker, she had finally put herself back out on the dating scene.

Buffy, never knowing about the now-nonexistent perfect day when Angel had briefly been human, had met Jeff, a junior majoring in philosophy shortly before Christmas. He had asked her out right after New Year's, and the two of them had started officially dating.

Of course, dating someone who knew nothing as yet about the special nightlife of Sunnydale - unlike, say, Xander or Oz or even the three-foot-tall Jonathan Levinson - had presented a whole new set of problems for Buffy.

And by the way, there was no chance that she was *ever* going to look at that nerd in a similar manner again, as a matter of principle - not after the Super-Jonathan spell debacle he had carried out a few weeks ago.

"So, how was class today?" Jeff asked, pulling Buffy from her reverie.

"Long and mind-numbing. I swear, if I'd known that Psych 101 by Professor Parker would be so damn boring, I would've signed up for a psychology class thought up by a homicidal power-hungry bitch or something," Buffy joked.

"Should have been here a year ago, we had a professor who fitted that description to a T. I dropped her class, I was so worried that she might give me a bad grade. Turns out though, I was worried about nothing."

Buffy ate some of the chips she had just purchased. "What do you mean?"

"She got killed about this time last year, almost exactly to the day. It was a big scandal and everything. The police never found out who did it."

"That's awful," Buffy commented. { Although not surprising, the Sunnydale PD has never been any good at dealing with what really goes on around here. I betcha they saw the bite marks on her neck, and wrote it off as a PCP-related crazed gang attack, } Buffy thought sarcastically, not realizing that she would lose any such bets.

Although a vampire had been involved in the death of Maggie Walsh, the actual deed was done by a human being; and it was just as well for her sanity, Angel and Xander had kept what she couldn't deal with safely hidden from her.

Jeff sighed. "Let's talk about more pleasant things, babe. Like, what are you doing tonight? Maybe we can get together?" Jeff raised his eyebrows at Buffy.

Buffy frowned. "Sorry, sweetie. Will and the rest of the gang are having a Women's Studies Group meeting tonight. Knowing them, it might go on for a long time..."

The Chosen One and the Scoobies had decided that it would be best if Jeff didn't learn from them what went on after dark around Sunnydale, at least for a while longer. And calling the Scooby gang a Women's Study Group seemed a good way to disguise what they really got up to after the sun went down. { You know, I *would* like to date a boy for more than three months, before he goes running off screaming from the things that go bump in the night... }

Jeff made a face. "This is the third time this week, isn't it? You should be the first in your class, when it comes to women's studies."

Buffy smiled at Jeff. "Well, since I'm blonde and have to study twice as hard to keep up with everyone else..."

For some odd reason, Jeff collected blonde jokes and forwarded them to Buffy. She thought it was cute, for now. But if he was still doing it in a few months, well, the Slayer knew she might have to reevaluate the cuteness factor involved.

"Come on. I'm your boyfriend!" Jeff pouted. "I would like to spend some time with you. I swear, you're spending so much time with Rosenberg that I'm beginning to imagine you're thinking of switching over to the other team..."

"JEFF!" Buffy almost shouted. "How could you say such a thing!?"

Jeff looked hurt at her reproach, so she softened her tone. "You know I don't go in for that. I mean, you *really* know that," she whispered to him.

Jeff cast his eyes down for a second. "I know, I know that, still - we've been together long enough that I *know* there's a part of you, that you just won't let me see. And I want in on your life, Buffy. All of it - not just the public face, as cute as it is."

Buffy reached over and covered Jeff's hand with her own, wishing this didn't have to be so complicated. "I know, still - there are things I have to do. And after all, we don't have all the same classes. Plus, you, you have your poetry club thing a couple nights a week-"

"And I'm still wishing you would come to those meetings more often than you do, by the way."

{ Well, don't hold them during prime patrolling hours then, } Buffy thought to herself, trying not to be judgmental. "Tell you what, sweetie, what say after I finish up with the study group, I give you a call? We can do something."

Jeff thought for a second. "Promise?"

Buffy smiled at him and leaned over, and kissed him. "I pinky-swear." She stood up. "Yikes, my next class is in 15 minutes and I have to walk all the way across campus to get to it. I'll call you later on tonight."

**Apartment B, 523 Oak Park Street, Sunnydale. Early that same night**

Buffy walked into Giles' residence and looked around. It looked like she was the last one there. "Sorry I'm late, guys-"

Willow smiled indulgently at her. "Oooh, spending quality smoochie time with Jeff?" she asked sweetly. Tara, sitting next to her, nudged her slightly.

Buffy sighed. "I wish. Actually, I was checking on Mom. She was down at the gallery, going over the books with her accountant. If I'm lucky, I'm going to spend some quality girlfriend time with Jeff afterwards." She pulled up a chair to the dining table where Willow and Tara were sitting. "So, what's the sitch?"

"The sitch, a-as you so elegantly put it, is that we still don't know what's going on with this, this new vampire master who has set up shop in town," Giles said, as he exited the kitchen holding a cup of tea.

"Don't tell me that, Giles. I want you to gimme answers. That way I can go out and slay the bad guy really quickly, and then meet with Jeff before it gets too late. Here I go and get a nice normal boyfriend, and I can't spend time with him?" Buffy crossed her arm and leaned on the table. "I've been spending way too much time in Slayer mode, I need some girlfriend time or whatever real quick - or I'm getting the feeling things'll turn ugly."

"Don't worry, Buff, we'll get you out of here early so you can go and get some lust bunny action with your guy," Willow said.

"And, a-and so that others get some snuggle bunny action also," Tara said, which brought a smile to Willow's face.

Giles touched the bridge of his nose. "How the devil did I wind up as the only male in this group?" he wondered out loud.

"Blind luck?" Buffy offered with a shrug, not thinking about a certain former Slayerette.

Giles glanced at her in exasperation. { Maybe I can convince that Jonathan fellow to join up with these youngsters? True, he's no Xander or Oz, but at least he'll be someone else with a bloody Y chromosome around here. No, Buffy's still rather mad at him over that reality-alteration spell. Oh, well... } Giles looked at the three girls sitting at the tale in front of him.

"Ah, getting back to why we're here? To recap, we know someone is gathering the vampires of town under a new leader. Why, we don't know. I've done some checking - a-a-and it appears that whoever this new vampire is, he started uniting the local undead community under his leadership back in February. But what he's after doing this, we don't know either."

The former Watcher looked grim. "He, he has also been able to impose an unusual kind of control over the vampire attacks in town. They're a lot less random than before, more concentrated on certain locales such as nightclubs, malls and frat parties. It looks like they're also limiting the attacks to young people. Disappearances of students from the local colleges seem to up somewhat."

"And there's also the unicorns," Tara blurted out. She then looked at the others with a great deal of embarrassment on her face. "We got those books on unicorns you all wanted."

Giles nodded. "Good, good. Now whoever this new vampire master is, unicorns seem to somehow figure into his plans. Willow, Tara, any luck with research on that angle?"

Willow shook her head. "Not really. We've discovered that unicorns are rare mythical creatures, like we didn't know that already, but not completely fictitious. Still - what we've learned of them really doesn't match up to any of them being in southern California, or dealing with vampires. And why the heck one of them would be figuring in a Big Bad's plan for evil? Is something beyond me!" She looked apologetically at Giles. "Sorry we couldn't get more."

"No need to apologize. You did quite well, from what I reviewed before Buffy arrived. The spell looks quite promising."

"Spell?" Buffy looked a little worried at that. She disliked magic a *lot* these days; in her experience, it almost never led to anything good.

"Yes, uh, there's a spell we can use that can be used to locate a unicorn," Giles looked over his charges. "I, I'd suggest that Willow and Tara assemble the materials for that spell as soon as possible. We'll use it to locate one, or see if we can learn anything from interacting with a unicorn. We'll, we'll also get in touch with Ms. Jenkins, and see if she knows of anything from demon lore which might help us-"

Buffy snorted. "Ms. Jenkins? Giles, c'mon, everyone calls her Anya now. Why don't you?"

Giles ignored his former protégé for a reason. "Buffy, you'll patrol tonight and see if you can learn anything. You might swing by Willy's later on, and see if he can be persuaded to provide some information."

Willow thought for a second. "No luck with your contacts on the Council about this new vamp head honcho?"

Giles shook his head. "No. Uh, all the Watchers I knew seem to have left the United States. And the ones overseas seem to be squeamish and nervous, when they'll even talk to me. They're unnerved by something. They say they don't know anything, and despite their anxiety, I don't think they're lying..."

Buffy had a satisfied smile. "Well, it's not like we can't guess what's gotten their panties all in a bunch. Me, never been so happy to see a Wanted poster in my entire life!"

All of them had been surprised when a few weeks ago, the picture of Quentin Travers - the Watcher bigwig from England - had shown up in the nation's media, as being wanted in connection with an attempted kidnapping in Las Vegas. And what the hell - it had been enough to restore some of Buffy's faith that there truly *was* justice in this world, after his role in her Cruciamentum.

Giles shrugged. "Yes, something must have gone drastically wrong for Quentin and his people, and they're now facing the heat from the American government-"

"How much you wanna bet they screwed around with and messed up some poor new Slayer, and the Feds found out? Betcha they can't enjoy having Elliott Ness and J. Edgar Hoover breathing down their necks," Willow commented with a grin.

"Ewwww," Buffy said with a grimace. "Now you've put a mental image in my head, that I really want to get rid of!"

"Ladies. We're losing focus here," Giles reproached them. "A-a-and despite the imagery of American cultural icons that seems to have captured Buffy's attention, we need to deal with our current situation. For now, I suggest we get started with our tasks for the night."

All the girls looked at him, nodded and started about their assignments.

**Restfield Cemetery, later that night**

Buffy walked through the cemetery, quietly fuming to herself. The patrolling had gone on longer than she'd expected, and was beginning to cut into her Jeff time. { Why can't the vampires take a holiday, or just show up where I want them to be? } the woman thought in annoyance.

She had encountered several of the undead, soon after she had started her patrol. They'd seemed to be cleaning out some crypts, and had run as soon as they had seen her. Buffy had chased them, and managed to stake a few of them. Of course, vampires that were all dusty couldn't tell her what was going on, so the Buff-meister had realized she had to follow the other bloodsuckers for that.

And they were darn quick. { I guess the survival instinct really can make you run faster, alive or undead. } Buffy crossed over several rows of tombstones, and she vaguely sensed some vampires in the direction ahead, her Slayersense working overtime. { Man, I really wish my spidey-senses would operate different. Things would work a lot better, if I could just know where every vampire that's close to me is... }

The inner mental musings suddenly brought back nightmarish memories during 1998, of her Xander-shaped friend...ending up hating her guts, before eventually being lost forever. { Yeah. That would have avoided a lot of problems in the past. I'm sorry, Xander... }

Snapping out of it, Buffy saw movement about twenty yards in front of her. Two people were hovering behind a tree, and she jogged towards them. They saw her coming towards her, and did not look happy about it.

"Damn!" one of them shouted, and they started running away from her.

"Oh, come on!" the Slayer shouted out. "If you run, I'll just be mad when I catch you!"

She ran after them anyway. { This is kinda strange behavior for the undead, I gotta say. I mean normally, they at least try to fight; I dunno, maybe they're getting smarter? } Buffy gained on them gradually, determined to get some answers on who their boss was.

She remembered the layout of the cemetery well; the vampires seemed to be heading towards the west entrance. The blonde freshman recalled a shortcut to get there, and she swerved off to use it. { I guess all those nights in this cemetery finally paid off... }

The two vampires continued running towards the gate. Then one of them looked over his shoulder and not seeing the vampire Slayer, he slowed down. "Hold up, I think we lost her!"

The other one slowed down also. They then came to a complete halt under another big tree. They looked in all directions, to see if there was any sign of the Sunnydale Slayer.

"Where do ya think she went?" the vampire who had cursed earlier asked, not seeing anything.

"Probably back there somewhere, catching her breath. You know how humans are with their breathing."

"Yeah, well, at least we're not really allergic to wood!" Buffy said, as she dropped down out of the tree. She quickly staked the vampire that had made fun of humans and their breathing. The other one raised his arms to attack her, as his face vamped out...

Only to receive a kick to his face, that sent him sprawling back. He hit the ground hard, quickly followed by Buffy punching the guy in the face. She then pinned him to the ground, and held the stake above his chest.

"Hey! No! Come on, Slayer, what did I ever do to you?" the vampire cried out.

"You're breathing, that's what." Buffy got a confused look on her face. "Well, no, you're actually not breathing, you're...well, you know why!"

"You're hassling me just because of what I am! Isn't that racism, or species-ism, or some kind of -ism?" the male vamp asked, his game face disappearing.

{ Oh great, a political science major! } Buffy thought to herself, taking in his human college boy appearance. "Right now, pal, I don't see the ACLU anywhere around - even if they did take on cases for undead Americans! Look, you've got a choice. You can either be a vampire, or you can be a pile of ashes. Want to play the game?"

The vampire struggled for a second, then gave up. "All right, all right, what do you want to know?"

"In order; what's going on with all the bloodsuckers lately? Why were you cleaning out the crypts? And who's the new head vamp in town?"

The vampire's human face looked panicked for a moment. "If I talk-"

"Be more scared of *me* right now, fang face!" Buffy looked beautiful and deadly dangerous.

The undead guy shrugged. "Okay. In order then, not much at the moment. We were given the duty. And don't know much about the new boss, all I know is what they say-"

"And that is?"

"It'll be a 'bitchin' time', once he's in control. Got plans for a lot more vampires. That's why we're cleaning out the crypts; he wants to move the new recruits in there. I mean, have you even looked at the rental property market in Sunnydale these days? Those real estate people, now they're the *real* monsters around here. You don't have a clue-"

The Slayer ignored that last part. "Who is he?"

He shrugged. "Don't know."

Buffy moved the stake closer to his chest. "Come on..."

The vampire shook his head in panic. "No, really! I've never laid eyes on him. No one I know has, either. That bastard's real smart; works through a guy that hangs out at Willy's, who goes by the handle of Tommy."

"He's down at Willy's bar?"

"Yeah, right now."

Buffy smiled. "And you'll try to warn him when I let you go, won't you?"

The vampire looked sheepishly up at Buffy. "He's expecting me and the others soon, Slayer. He'll ask what happened to everyone-"

"Don't worry. I'll tell him what happened to all of you," she replied, slightly stressing the 'all' in her sentence, as the Chosen One brought the stake down and turned the bloodsucker into dust.

Buffy stood up, and dusted off the ashes from her clothes. { God, my dry-cleaning bill is getting majorly out of control... } she thought in annoyance, as she headed towards Willy's Place.

**Main Street, later that night**

Willow and Tara strolled along the sidewalk, as they headed back to their dorm. They held hands as they did so; the girls were still new enough in their relationship, that they got a thrill just out of holding each other's hands.

"Do you think the spell will work?" Tara asked suddenly.

"Don't see why it won't. We've got all the ingredients, well - *will* have all of them, by tomorrow night. We've got the spell book. Giles can help out, and we're not exactly slouches at the whole witchcraft thing. Should be a snap," Willow replied with a smile.

"You sure?" Tara asked hopefully. Her life history had left her unsure of a lot of things, and the blonde Wicca honestly didn't know she was a lot better than she gave herself credit for.

Willow smiled again at her. "Sure. Just wait and see, you'll amaze yourself. Heck, you always amaze me!" With that, the two of them made their way down the road.

Not noticing that at the end of the street, Lemke was busy moving the last of the bodies into a nearby alley. Well, then again, they hadn't *been* bodies when the witches had started walking down the street...

{ I'm supposed to be retired. Man, this *really* doesn't feel like retired to me! } Lemke pushed the last corpse over into the dumpster. { One good thing about the Hellmouth - the cops won't kick up much of a fuss at finding five bodies in a dumpster. Any other town, they would be in full-blown serial killer mode. Here? Just get the broom out and start sweeping! }

He glanced at the bodies in their nondescript brown robes again, before the lid slammed shut. { That's odd, how did they even see where to go with their eyes mutilated shut like that? I'll have to report this back to Cleburne... }

Buffy stalked into Willy's bar, in a really foul mood. It had taken longer than she'd expected to get to the lowlife dive, as several of the undead citizens of Sunnydale had required her attention. The girl had hoped by this time to be snuggling with Jeff; instead, she was looking for a vampire minion to get information.

Willy saw her come into the bar. "Oh, it's you. Hey Slayer, how's it going! What's the Slayer doing here in my establishment?" he said in a loud voice, warning the various undead denizens of the bar of her arrival.

Buffy had no intention of playing games. She walked up to the bar, and demanded, "Which one of them is Tommy?"

"I don't know who you're talking-" was as far as Willy got, before he found himself gripped by the front of his shirt and pulled closer to the very agitated Slayer.

She snarled, "Willy, if you don't want me to burn this place down to the ground, preferably with you in it..."

Willy gulped, and nodded at the back door. "He's the one in the leather duster, who just went out the back!"

Buffy pushed the snitch away, and ran out of the establishment in high-speed hot pursuit. She ran into the back room and continued on, out the back door into the alley. Ms. Summers glanced around and saw her quarry at the end of the alleyway, running fast away from her. { More running? I should try out for the track team! Still, unfair Slayer advantage... } The Chosen One took off after him.

The vamp was sprinting down the street. Every once in a while he looked over his shoulder, and was rewarded seeing a rapidly gaining blonde Slayer. He picked up the pace, each time he did that.

This continued for about three blocks until, while he was glancing over his shoulder, the guy failed to notice the newspaper vending machine that was directly in his path. He ran straight into it and flipped over, the big dummy falling down flat on his face.

The vampire cursed loudly, as he got up and turned around to face the Slayer. Only to receive a punch to the face, that sent him back to the ground. He struggled to get back up and would have been successful, except that Buffy pushed him right back down and held him there.

"Whoa there, vamp face. Didn't your mother ever tell you to always look where you were running?"

"Get off of me, Slayer!" Tommy shouted as he struggled.

Buffy then got a good look at him, for the first time. { He looks kinda young for a vamp minion... } "Not until you tell me what I want to know." She peered down at the undead guy. "Hey, don't I know you?"

"Must be all the times I kicked your ass!" her prisoner growled at her.

"Pfffft, you wish," Buffy replied nastily. "Still, I know you from somewhere. But where-"

"You better let me go, or else. My master will be real mad about this!"

"And on that point, by the way, who is the big noise you're working for? I keep hearing...nothing about him, and hey! I thought to myself, so want to meet this guy."

The vampire laughed. "You have no idea, do you? You keep saying him. You have no clue. The great and powerful Slayer really doesn't..." His rantings were stopped by Buffy's fist connecting with his face. "Owwwwww!" he whimpered.

"Okay, let's try this again. Who's your boss? What's the plan? And is there any way we can hurry this along, so I can get home by midnight?"

"Why, you got a date or something?" At her silence, Tommy laughed. "Oh my God, you *do* have a date! Boy, I almost feel sorry for you - the job must make it hell on your social life-"

Another fist in the face hit home. "Owwwww! Will you quit that? Okay, fine. My boss is the eternal radiance that lights up the night. She's the center of the entire macrocosmic universe. She's-" All these platitudes brought another punch to his face.

"So you work for a female vamp? Fine. How about just telling me the plan, without all the poetic garbage?" Buffy's eyes widened suddenly. "Hey, *now* I know who you are! You're Brad Konig. I knew you in high school, you were always writing bad poetry for literature class in 10th grade! That, and you beat up kids in gym-"

Her captive looked up sullenly at her. Buffy raised back her fist as if to strike him again.

"All right, all right! I'm him."

"Then why is everyone calling you Tommy?"

"I hate the name Brad. Always have, always will. That's why I killed my parents, for naming me that-"

Buffy belted him again, in what had now become a sad routine. "So you became a vampire and changed your name. You couldn't have just gone to night court, and paid fifty bucks to do it?"

"You mock me with your words, Slayer. But just you wait, she's almost ready. And once it's here, you'll all be resting in pieces!"

"It? Do tell," Buffy said menacingly.

Brad/Tommy gulped, when realized he may have said too much. "What do you mean? I don't know what you mean. There's no it. There's - nothing's going on," he babbled with more than a trace of panic in his voice.

Buffy smiled down at him with the grin of a lethal predator. "Oh there is, and by the time we're done here? You're going to tell me *exactly* what is going on."

**The apartment of Rupert Giles, Sunnydale, California. Shortly after midnight**

Giles headed downstairs, trying to get fully awake. Whoever was knocking on his door had roused him from a restful slumber, and the former Watcher was not happy about that. { I hope that whoever is pounding on my door like that is bloody well prepared to justify their actions... }

"What is it?" the former 'Ripper' growled, as he flung open the door. He then just stared at what was there.

"Out of the way, Giles, I *really* don't want to be seen with this in public," Buffy said, as she entered the apartment. Two sets of footsteps sounded; well, one set of footsteps and one set of hoofsteps sounded on the floor of Giles' condo.

Giles stood in open-mouthed shock at what he was looking at. "You can't bring that in here!"

Buffy looked at Giles. "Well, what do you suggest I do with it then? 'Cause I can't really take it to one of the local stables, now can I?"

There in the middle of the entryway stood Buffy, holding a leash that was connected to a honest-to-goodness...unicorn.

Giles looked around, trying to figure out what to do. "All right, uh - come on, we'll put it in the spare room for now." He led Buffy and the unicorn towards that part of the residence, "Now then - how did you, how did you come into possession of this unicorn?"

"Got a lead from one of the vampire master's henchmen, and by the way - we're dealing with a female vamp master here. Probably a sane version of that nutcase, Drusilla."

Rupert frowned, remembering how she'd tricked him that day he'd been tortured. "Did you get a name?"

Buffy shook her head, as she led the unicorn into the spare room. "No, Brad preferred filling up a dust buster to giving up her ID."

"Brad?"

"Yeah, uh, turns out I knew him in high school. Anyway, didn't get too many details out of the guy, as I don't think he was really part of the inner circle. One thing I did get though, was that our vampire queen was waiting for a special delivery. I also got the time and place of said delivery. So I decided to make an addition to the welcoming committee, namely good ol' me. Long story short, you now have a new houseguest..."

**Thirty minutes later**

Willow and Tara arrived at the apartment, and with the Scoobies assembled they all gathered in the spare room to examine the animal that Buffy had brought back from her raid.

"Wow, it's so amazing! Look at that horn, all glittery. Actually, I'll admit I never thought I'd actually see one, 'cause you know - they were always the stuff of fairy tales or whatever," Willow commented.

"Like vampires?" Buffy remarked.

Willow looked over at Buffy with a sad half-smile, the ghosts of the fallen souls they both remembered suddenly between them. "Yeah, like vampires."

Giles studied the creature, thankful that it just seemed content to stand there and not do anything else, like chew on the carpet. As his safety deposit was not insubstantial... "Any idea of what the vampire queen needed the unicorn for?"

"Not a clue. All I know is, that the unicorn's the last piece in the queen's plan."

"Well, um, what do we do now?" Tara asked.

The others looked at each other. But Buffy was the first one to give voice to what the others were thinking, "You mean, we had all these plans about finding the unicorn, but we hadn't thought about what to do once we had it?"

Willow looked apologetically at Buffy. "I guess we just figured that once we had what we were after, it would be obvious what to do. Kinda dumb, huh?"

"Well, well, one thing is obvious," Giles said, as he started moving around the room. "I'm putting down newspapers, because I just had this carpet steam-cleaned a few weeks ago..." The Englishman laid down the newspapers as he spoke. When he got near the unicorn, it looked at him with sorrowful eyes and then stepped over onto the paper safety net. Giles cleared his throat, clearly unnerved by the unicorn's actions.

Buffy had her hands on her hips, as she regarded her mentor. "Okay Giles, now that you're done channeling Martha Stewart, can we get back to the problem at hand?"

"Quite," Giles clucked his tongue. "It's unfortunate the unicorn itself can't tell us what's going on, you know-"

"Why not?" The others looked at Tara questioningly. She wringed her hands a little bit. "It's just, well - she's intelligent. You can tell, just by looking at her! And look how she's making sure to stay on the newspapers. We just need to figure out a way to let her speak!"

"Sweetie, I-I-I don't recall there being a Dr. Doolittle spell out there anywhere," Willow said nervously.

Giles looked thoughtful for a second, then hurried out of the room. The girls just looked at each other. Giles then came back into the room a few moments later, flipping through a book. "Yes, yes, here we go, this Turkish spell lets someone without a voice have one. It links the mind of a person who can't speak, with someone that can. We could probably modify it, so we can use it between a human and a unicorn..."

"Cool," Buffy said unenthusiastically. "So I guess I'm channeling the horsey-horse, while you guys do the mojo?"

Giles shook his head. "No, uh, I'm sorry Buffy. But I'm afraid that - that wouldn't work," he said, looking slightly embarrassed.

"Why not?" Willow asked in confusion.

"Well, it's...you see...it's like...well-"

"Spit it out, Watcher man! 'Cause right now, I'm supposed to be making out with Jeff, not here talking about this!" Buffy snapped.

Giles sighed. "As you wish. It's like how the one thing everyone knows about unicorns, that they can only be ridden by virgins? Well, I'm afraid..."

"Still not getting what you...oh, no! You can't mean-!" Buffy said in exasperation, her voice rising a little bit.

"I'm afraid so. Buffy, changing the spell for a unicorn will be difficult enough. So we should do everything else in our power, to give the translation spell every possible chance of success."

Buffy Summers threw her arms up in the air. "Great. This is southern California, in the 21st century! Where the hell are we gonna find a virgin around here?"

Willow tentatively raised her hand. "Buffy? I, um, I think I have an idea..."

**Thirty minutes later**

"Okay, why exactly am I here again?" Jonathan Levinson asked hesitantly. As being roused from your bed by a ticked-off Slayer was not something that reassured one about one's continued safety.

"Don't ask too many questions, Jonathan. Just consider this part of making up for us kissing like that, a few weeks ago," the blonde Slayer said between clenched teeth.

The nerd and would-have-been member of the group known as the Trio backed off at once. "Whatever you say..." { I knew I should have gone with those twins instead of trying to make her my girlfriend, } Jonathan mused.

Buffy turned to the others. "Have I told you how much I hate this idea?"

"Yes you have," Giles answered, without looking up from the spell book he had in front of him. "You said so, many times before you left to go get Mr. Levinson. You called myself twice and Willow once with your cell phone, while you were on your way to get him. And once you had him, you called us no less than three further times trying to convince us to find another way."

"Hey, I just don't think we should eliminate my idea so quickly!" Buffy said with a pouting look.

"Buff, we cannot go looking for elementary school students by pounding on doors," Willow said. "Even the Sunnydale PD couldn't ignore that. And we don't want to join that creepy Mr. Travers on a Wanted poster!"

Buffy just crossed her arms and pouted. She really didn't have an answer to that.

Anya entered the room, holding some ingredients. "I've got the roots!" She headed over to the table where the pot was with the other ingredients, dropping the roots into it. The ex-demon then turned and looked at Jonathan, inspecting him like a prize animal. "Is that the only virgin you could find?"

"WHAT!?" the short guy yelled. He looked at the others with a panicked look, "What does she mean? And, and why is she calling me that?"

Buffy looked over at the nerd. A gleeful look came over her face as she thought, { A little payback is *definitely* in order here. } "Don't you remember, back when you had that whole Super-Jonathan spell going? When we were making out?" { And thank God it didn't go any farther than that, or I would have killed him for making me cheat on Jeff! } "You told me things. About how you glad you were, that you had waited..." she said in a sugary-sweet voice.

Jonathan just incoherently whimpered a bit, as everyone stared. { Oh yeah, definitely should have gone with the twins. Would have been twice the fun and without the guilt, all at the same time. } "No, no, this can't be happening-"

"Oh, but it is," Buffy continued with a grin, remembering the times she had made out with the geek at his mansion during the spell - so she felt no qualms of remorse, if he was now a little embarrassed. "Guess what goes around, comes around Jonathan. So, deal."

"I-I-I...think it's sweet. That he waited," Tara enjoined. "I mean, wanting to be sure and everything, for the right person t-to do it with."

"Who said I wanted to wait for that?" Jonathan muttered under his breath.

"What did you just say?" Buffy asked sharply.

Jonathan's stomach churned in dismay, at the thought Buffy might have heard him. He had planned to 'go all the way' with her during that spell, but had been interrupted by various undead and demonic activities. After all, she was the Slayer and he couldn't just stand aside and not fight evil when he was the superstar.

{ Yeah, and I suppose I should actually be glad about that now. 'Cause, I can imagine how much damage she would have done to me if things had turned out otherwise. } "Nothing, just wondering what I'm waiting for here. I want to help out as best as I can, you know."

Buffy glared at Jonathan, as he started scooting away from her. { God. No wonder we never wanted you in the Scooby gang, back during high school! }

Anya looked at him for a second. "You know, I read that prostitution is still legal in parts of Nevada. You could always go there to cure your problem, if you want. I could even provide transport, for a nominal fee!" She then looked around at the looks from the rest of the Scoobies. "What? At business school, one of the first things they teach you is that if you want to make a profit, when you see a potential market opening - you find a way to be the first to fill it!"

"Geez, Anya, that's just cold. I mean if you wanna help him out, I can think of another way you could fill that need," Willow joked.

"Ewwwww!" Anya remarked in disgust. "No way, it's illegal here in California. And, look at him! He's not what I'm after, in terms of a mate to eventually provide me with a brood of squalling children."

"Standing right here," Jonathan whined in dismay, feeling his manhood being emasculated by the femmes.

"Yes you are," remarked Buffy, who had no traces of sympathy for him.

"Please, can we focus?" Giles spoke up. { I swear, one day I have to go home to England, before these youngsters drive me batty... }

He walked over towards the unicorn. "Now then, Mr. Levinson, come here and lay your hands on the unicorn. Willow, you and Tara start the incantation. Buffy, you stand by in case anything goes wrong with the spell. Ms. Jenkins, you're to help out Willow and Tara if anything untoward happens. I'll try conversing with her..."

Everyone did as instructed, Jonathan laying his hands on the unicorn's neck. After the chanting went on for a few minutes, the 18-year-old guy suddenly stiffened and his eyes glazed over.

Giles looked intently at the possessed Jonathan. "Hello," the former Watcher said hesitantly.

"Hello. Could I have something to eat?" Jonathan/the unicorn asked.

Giles and Buffy looked at each other. The British man answered, "Ah, yes, er, w-what would you like?"

"Something green and leafy."

Giles nodded at Buffy, who left the room and headed for the kitchen. Giles continued the questioning, "Do you know why you were brought here, to the Hellmouth?"

"No. I was enjoying myself at my favorite pool of water when the unbreathing ones captured me, and brought me to this unholy place. I was in a truck for a long time. They wouldn't let me out, and I learned that someone they worked for wanted me here."

Buffy came back in carrying some lettuce, which she fed to the unicorn. "Thank you," the unicorn said via Jonathan when it finished eating.

Giles continued on. "What happened when you got here?"

"The unbreathing ones said now that I had arrived, they could begin the initiation ceremony. That their leader would be pleased. She seemed to be someone rather..." The unicorn stumbled for the right words. "...easily distracted."

"Cool, now what can you tell us about el vampira?" Buffy asked, getting down to business.

"I never met the unbreathing one to whom you most likely refer, but from what I overheard she is blonde, like you. Young, for both a demon and a human. Barely beyond being a child."

Buffy suddenly felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. "Oh no, it can't be..."

Suddenly, a rock flew through the window. The Scoobies looked at it as a high-pitched female voice screamed from outside, "Hey, you in there! I want my unicorn back!"

Buffy walked over to the window, looked out and sighed. "Oh my God, it is...it's Harmony!"

"I assure you that I am not hers, in any sense of the word. I am a sentient being. No one can claim ownership over me," the unicorn snapped out in response as it headed over to the window, trailing Jonathan along.

When the unicorn became visible to those below outside the window, Harmony started clapping her hands together and jumping up and down. "Ohhhh, look at her, she's all pretty and everything!"

Harmony had about a dozen vampires with her on the lawn. The other Scoobies also went to the window, and craned their necks to see the scene outside. They then heard the undead blonde yell out, "Come to mama!"

Buffy's temper flared rapidly. "You mean, all the problems we've had these past few months, me having to go to Jonathan's dorm room - and oh my God! I actually saw him in his boxers! All that, was because of Harmony? That *airhead* excuse for a vampire? Oh, someone is *so* gonna die for this!" She stalked out of the room.

Willow watched her go with some concern. "Giles, you think it's a good thing letting her go outside like that? After all, there's over a dozen vamps out there-"

Giles looked out the window. "Considering her mood, Willow, I-I would be more concerned about the survival of the vampires..." He sighed, "Still, I suppose we should lend a hand. Come on." Giles led the other Scoobies out of the room. The unicorn thought for a second, and then followed them with its human translator.

Buffy stormed out of the front door of Giles' apartment. "Harmony! I swear, you give new definition to the word über-idiot. This has *got* to be the lamest scheme any vampire has ever come up with!"

Harmony looked insulted. "What are you talking about? This is the dawn of a great new era! Once the Sorority of the Unicorn is in place, we will *rule* this town!"

Buffy looked at Harmony in open-mouthed shock. "Sorority? Sorority? You did all this, just to form a sorority? I don't believe it. Of all the - I mean, the Master, Angelus, the Mayor - and now *this*? How lame can this year's Big Bad possibly get?" As she said that, the Scoobies came out of the apartment door behind Buffy.

"Right, spoken like a true loser. I mean, look at who you hang out with!" Vamp Harmony waved at the Scoobies. "Losers, every single one of you. God, you even made Cordelia a loser, and she was my best friend! Well, until she started dating that dweeb Harris-"

"Don't you *dare* even mention his name!" Willow shouted, her eyes going black.

Tara just glanced nervously over at her girlfriend. She knew enough about Willow's history to know that she still missed her best friend from high school, but in what way precisely Tara was unsure.

"Whatever. You just don't get it!" Harmony stomped her foot up and down on the grass twice, like a spoiled child. "Now, you're completely messing up my plan. Gimme my unicorn!" she shouted.

Then Harmony stared. "Oh God, look, now you've got the bigger loser of them all - touching *my* unicorn!" she yelled, when the blonde saw the unicorn stick its head out of the apartment, still having Jonathan touching her neck.

"I AM NOT YOURS, DEMON!" Jonathan/the unicorn shouted back. "What will it take for you to understand that? And even if I was inclined to tolerate your presence, which I never will, you could not ride me. You are not pure!"

Harmony looked hurt at that. "Not pure? Not pure? How can you say that?"

"Well, it's true ya moron! Remember the time back in high school, when you and Cody Weinberg were alone in his car at Lovers Lane that night, and I found you two going at it...?" Buffy's voice trailed off as Harmony glared at her.

"That was back before I got turned! Doesn't count. Since then, I've been pure!"

A couple of the male vampires cleared their throats at the same time, when Harmony made that comment. The so-called vamp queen looked back at them in exasperation, "You're supposed to be on my side! Could I possibly get a little help here?"

Buffy looked at the vampires around Harmony. "This is insane. Hey, c'mon, you guys have to know this whole thing is completely ridiculous! How come you're all going along with her?"

The vampires kinda shuffled nervously, looking embarrassed. One of them named Cyrus finally spoke up, "Well, she got all the hot chick vamps in town totally psyched up about this sorority of hers, and they're all on board with it. And they...well...they told us that-"

"WHAT?" Buffy demanded.

"Well, they all got together and decided that there would be no more..." He struggled trying to find the right word. "...dating, until the sorority was all set up."

"What do you mean dating, why would that...oh!" Tara said, as realization set in what the vampire really meant.

With that though, Buffy *really* lost her temper. "WHAT! All this has been over the male vamps around here not getting any action? *That's* what this whole lameass thing has really been all about!? Oh, that's it. I am going to kill you guys, then I'm going to bring you back to life - just so I can kill you all over again!"

Harmony's face vamped out. "Get my unicorn!" she ordered the other vampires.

One of them advanced to where the unicorn was, and was promptly surprised when she staked him using her horn. Everyone stared in open-mouthed shock at that, as the soulless demon named Mort exploded into dust.

"How the...it's not wood?" Buffy managed to stammer out.

"It must be because it's a magical creature, and the horn is blessed somehow. There are stories-" Giles said, then he shook his head and regained his focus. "We'll talk about it later, right now we must deal with the vampires!"

And with that, the Scoobies attacked the undead without another word, like the well-oiled machine they were.

Buffy waded into them, staking left and right. Giles fired a crossbow bolt that found its mark, every time. The unicorn turned into dust the few vampires that were foolish enough to get near enough to her, as Jonathan leapt onto the animal's back. Even Tara, Willow and Anya managed to dispatch one or two of the undead as well.

Unnoticed by the good guys, though, four of the vampires seemed to turn into dust from no apparent source at all.

The remaining few bloodsuckers looked around, and saw their depleted numbers. They quickly decided that just as discretion was the better part of valor, cowardice was the better part of discretion - and they quickly fled the scene, wisely looking out for number one.

Harmony finally realized that her support had disappeared, into thin air in some cases. "This isn't over, Slayer! You may have humiliated me tonight, but I'll be back one day, and when I return - you'll rue the day you ever messed with me!" With that, she turned around and fled the scene as well.

"Rue? Who the hell says rue anymore?" Buffy said, shaking her head.

"Well, I don't think that the term is that outdated," Giles started to say.

"Shut up, Giles, please," Buffy said tiredly.

"Pardon me. I hate to bother you, but I do have a question - how do I get back home?" Jonathan/the unicorn asked timidly. The Scoobies just stared at one another.

Across the street, Lemke looked down from his sniper post atop one of the apartment buildings, as he disassembled the rifle he had used a short time before. { Those wooden-based bullets really worked well! Of course, you have to be real proficient to use them properly, but still... }

Luckily for all concerned, Lemke *was* an excellent marksman. { Better call Cleburne in the morning; tell him about those weirdos with the mutilated eyes, and about the vampire floorshow that just finished up here... }

**Room 214, Stevenson Hall, UC Sunnydale. Two hours later**

Buffy sat bolt upright in her bed with a soft scream, and waking Willow up with a fright. "Buff-?"

The blonde Slayer paid her no attention, "Oh, no! Jeff! I completely forgot!"

TBC...


	6. Chapter 6

**Part Six**

**Los Angeles, California. July, 2000**

Charles Gunn walked down the street. And although he would personally despise the comparison if it were ever mentioned to him, for all the world he acted like a police officer, walking his beat. He knew the neighborhoods he frequented. Knew the people in them, on them, and under them; knew the streets, knew the buildings.

And like a good beat cop, the gang leader could easily tell when something was wrong in his 'hood. Gunn could feel it in the air, in the very surroundings as he made his rounds.

Nowadays, his rounds had grown in size. The 'Lost Boys' had been able to expand their operations somewhat. Close to 18 months ago, they'd been struggling to hold onto just one neighborhood in the slums of LA...

Then that Harris guy had shown up, and helped them take a nest of vampires. And in doing so, he and his people had learned that life didn't have to be a desperate holding action. The runaways and homeless kids realized that with the right tools and training, they could go on the offensive - and take out the things that went bump in the night.

For the longest time, the LA underworld had always encountered the humans and caused fear and panic among them. After all, one teenage Slayer could only be in one place at a time; and the current Chosen One had left her hometown to guard the Hellmouth, nearly four years ago now.

And even though the vampire Champion with a soul had come to take over for her, he couldn't be everywhere at once either.

Facing off against human groups who knew that evil could be beaten, however, well - that threw off the underworld's game. Attitude made a huge difference in the fight against evil.

{ As do supplies; man, they really help also! } Gunn thought to himself.

After that...interesting journey to Georgia to help out Army Guy, the Lost Boys had started to get some supplies from an 'unknown source'; mostly food, weapons and other combat supplies. There had only been two such supply drops since they had last seen Xander, but the supplies had come in very handy.

With these supplies, the Lost Boys gave better than they got with the undead. Gunn had started leading a crusade, and had also helped guard Wesley and Cordy in hospital after the headquarters of Angel Investigations had been blown up by a demon named Vocah. Still, despite that more street people had started wanting to hook up with his soldiers, which in turn had led to more successes for him and his boys. More territory made safe from the paranormal was an inevitable result of all this.

Of course, life also has a funny way of turning everything upside down on you.

There had been a surprise in the second supply package. A handwritten note, with no signature. All it said was for him and his forces to look out for something called the New Family or New Life shelter for runaways. There was also a phone number to be called, when something had been found.

The word had been put out on the street. Gunn was sure that if there was anything like it in Los Angeles, he would hear about it before too long.

And he had been right. Just two days after he had put the word out, a tip had come in about one particular place. Gunn had sent Bobby to check it out; and the phone call he had received a little earlier had been the result of said stakeout.

Gunn saw Bobby loitering on a street corner, effortlessly blending in with the other denizens of the metropolis. He casually walked up to him, "Hey, bro. What's the word?"

Bobby nodded to him in greeting. "Lotta bad vibes here, man. Been feeling 'em even worse than that little trip we took to Georgia, few months back. I think we're onto the real deal here."

"Like what?"

Bobby nonchalantly nodded to the building across the road from him. A sign proclaimed it as the 'New Hope Family Shelter'. "I swear that place is givin' me the serious wiggins, dog."

"Why's that?"

"Well, for one thing, I've been watching it for almost two days now. Lots of kids go in, brought in by them counselors. Thing is, I ain't never seen any of them come out. All I've seen is a bunch of old geezers come stumblin' outta there."

Gunn looked puzzled. "Old folks? At a runaway shelter?"

"Yeah, 'bout twice a day. The counselors herd them out, and push 'em away down the street. And lemme tell you, the old farts are almost zombie-like, in complete fear of the counselors. Caught up with one of 'em last night. She just kept mumbling, 'I'm no one'. Kinda freaked me out."

Gunn looked deep in thought. "What happened to her?"

"Eventually wandered off somewhere in the direction of Venice Boulevard. Acted real afraid of anyone showing guts, too."

Gunn thought some more, for about a second. "Kids go in, but don't come out? You seen any old people go in?"

"No, which is another reason my ass is getting all freaked out here."

"So kids go in, but don't come out; and old people come out, but don't go in. Yeah, I can see why this is freakworthy. And I'm thinkin' we just found whatever Harris was looking for." Gunn started walking down the street.

Bobby followed him. "Where you going?"

Gunn turned the corner, and took out the cell phone that had come in the last supply drop. "Don't want no one to see us makin' a phone call, man, not right in front of their building!" He started dialing the number that he had memorized several days ago. Then the black guy waited for the other end to answer.

"Hello." It was a female voice, older.

"Yeah, hi - this is Charles Gunn, with two n's. You the one lookin' for the New Family people?"

"We are."

"I've sure as shit got something for you, then."

**Washington, D.C. Five minutes later**

Esther Marcum hung up the telephone, after talking with Gunn. She then made a mental note to have the number disconnected and erased, as soon as possible. { No reason to give anyone looking, a possible means of finding us. }

The STW operative frowned. { This is good, I suppose; we've been wondering if those demons had changed their slave-gathering habits, after Mr. Harris escaped from their custody. At least now, we know the answer. } She then turned to the computer workstation next to her desk, and started pulling up a menu.

{ Hmmm, now let's see who's available to handle this... } A smile then spread over Esther's face. { Somehow, that's quite fitting. He's been looking to get into the field. And this would seem to be a perfect opportunity. } The black woman reached over, picked the phone and waited for the call to go through.

"Cleburne. You in the mood to kill something?"

**141 Embury Street, Los Angeles, California. Four days later**

"Angel Investigations. We help the helpless," Cordy chimed at her Silverlake apartment, which was also the temporary office for the detective agency, as she answered the phone.

"Cordelia, this is Lily. Any chance you're free to help me?"

"Yeah, I think I can shake loose for a while; no auditions or anything. What's up?" Cordy replied to her acquaintance.

The blonde woman called Lily - as well as Chantarelle and Sister Sunshine, a long time ago - was somebody who, in a different world, would have been known as Anne Steele by this time. As she had been supposed to meet Buffy the vampire Slayer, and help the Chosen One get her life back on track during the September of 1998.

But it hadn't worked out that way, this time around. Still, nonetheless, Lily had gotten involved in helping runaways, in the time she had been in Los Angeles - ever since she'd met Spike and left Sunnydale during 1997.

In this reality, her boyfriend named Rickie T had still ended up a slave in Ken's schemes, and died of old age after being thrown out onto the streets. But since Buffy hadn't been there to find him, Lily had just assumed the worst after a few days - and luckily for her disappeared out of town, before the demon slavemaster could find her to administer the same fate.

But eventually she had come back, cleaned up her act and as said, decided to help people like herself - granted, a bit later than it had previously been destined to be. And it seemed that most of the runaways she dealt with had some connection to the paranormal; therefore, she had encountered Angel and the Fang Gang on more than one occasion.

Lily said simply in reply to Cordy's question, "I'm not sure, the LAPD called and said they were going to have a situation involving runaways. Asked if I could be there, to help out. They even gave me a time and place as to when they would need the help. But they couldn't tell me for sure how many kids there would be, so I figure I might need some assistance on this one."

"I'll do what I can. When do you need me?"

"In about an hour."

"Cool, swing by and pick me up."

**New Hope Family Shelter, Los Angeles, California. Thirty minutes later**

The three teenagers wearing white robes hesitantly approached the black tar-looking portal. There were seven 'counselors' arrayed throughout the room.

"Don't worry, you need to be cleansed before you start your new life. Just step into the pit," the counselor in charge said soothingly.

{ You know, even though Ken got himself killed by that human, his method of gathering slaves worked pretty well. A few minor changes were needed here and there, of course, but the overall idea was pretty good, } the demon who had taken over when Xander had killed Ken thought to himself. He motioned for the teenagers, two girls and a boy, to step forward.

Suddenly, a racket arose outside the door to the chamber. Two of the counselors/disguised demons moved to the door. And were promptly blown back, when the door exploded inwards with the force of a tornado.

Heavily armored black-clad individuals with the word FBI emblazoned on their jackets came through the door, wielding menacing-looking sub-machine guns. The red laser beams used to sight the weapons popped up on the torsos of the demons/counselors. The number growing, too, as more SWAT team members entered the room.

"FBI, EVERYONE GET DOWN ON THE FLOOR! RIGHT THE HELL NOW!" yelled the first agent who had come through the door.

One of the demons, dumber than the rest, started towards the FBI agents. "Human! You don't know-"

That was far as he got, before a burst of gunfire tore into his chest.

The undercover slave trader staggered for a second, looked down at his chest in surprise at the growing pool of demon blood there, and fell face-first down onto the ground. One of the teenage girls started screaming at the sight of the corpse and the nonhuman ichor, as she and her fellow teenagers hit the floor and cowered there.

The other demons looked at each other for a second, and then at the multitude of red dots that was present on their persons. They all swiftly got down on the floor too.

**Outside the New Hope Family Shelter, Los Angeles **

The freelance photographer clicked picture after picture, as a line of police vans mostly blocked his view of the runaway shelter. He then looked down from his perch on the roof of the building across the street, and frowned.

The man didn't know what the hell was going on, but he figured that someone somewhere would pay something for these photographs.

**The apartment of Rupert Giles, Sunnydale, California. The same time**

Giles sighed, as he looked through his various letters and correspondences that had piled up lately. Bills, junk mail, and one or two letters from old friends back in the UK.

{ What the devil am I really still doing here, in the U.S.? } the British man suddenly asked himself. { This is insane, I-I've been hanging around as an unemployed gentleman of leisure for over a year. Buffy's not a child anymore, and the rest of her friends can easily take over my former role in her life; I need to get a life of my own, damn it. I need to go home to England... }

The former Watcher made a decision then. He would initiate and complete a project with his protégé Willow, indexing all his diaries, labeling and archiving all his materials; and once the usual summer lull in vampire activity was over, announce his intentions to leave.

Oh, granted Buffy would kick up a bit of a fuss; but still, he was the one who was older and wiser around here, and-

Suddenly, Giles froze.

There amidst all the crap, was a letter with his name on it date-stamped May 21, 1999

The day Xander and Faith had died.

Rupert feverishly tore it open, and started to read. To read a letter written by the hand of a dead man. And what his eyes took in, was enough to freeze the Englishman's blood into ice.

_Dear Giles,_

_Hey G-man, guess who? Yeah, on second thoughts there's really no need for you to answer, 'cause I remember that me calling ya that name - it always irritated the hell outta you. But for the record, it's me, Xander._

_Bet you're surprised to be reading this now, huh? Well, don't be. One thing I learned, after nearly five years in that hell dimension, was always to have some sorta contingency plans in place. And since this letter was delivered and you're reading it, that means I was right to do this - as I'm either dead, or gone._

_Either way, don't let it give you too much grief; there was no way I coulda stayed on the Hellmouth too much longer anyway, two months of avoiding you guys was hard enough. But Giles, there are things I remember that I couldn't tell you before, and that now you have to know; so that's why a series of time-delayed letters are in place here. This is the first of them that I wrote, to tell you something that you're not gonna want to hear._

_And what is that, you ask? Simple. Joyce Summers was born in 1958, and she died on February 21st, 2001._

_Freaky, huh? But if this letter gets to you in the July of the year 2000 like I expect, a tumor will shortly begin growing inside her skull. When it was detected, which should happen during the upcoming fall, Joyce had the surgery for it. And afterwards, she seemed to be well along the road to full recovery; when one day Buffy came home, and found Mrs. S dead on the couch from a brain aneurysm._

_What happened after that is not pleasant for me to remember, Giles._

_Trust me on that much. Buffy made...questionable decisions over the next three years in Joyce's absence, even though I'll admit my own viewpoint is pretty biased. And you could argue that I shouldn't be telling you all this, that it was her time and I shouldn't try to play God here; but somehow, I can't bring myself to believe that, so what the hell - don't let Joyce die her meaningless death._

_One last thing, G-man. Don't show this letter to Buffy or any of the others, except her mom. It would just stir up too many unpleasant memories, and besides - they need to get on with their lives. Just like you. Oh, that reminds me - this was right about the time you were first planning to go back to England, wasn't it? Well, forget that idea, at least for now. Please. You will be needed here. Again, trust me on that._

_Well, guess that's all for now. If all goes according to plan, expect my next letter sometime in November. Take care, Giles; you were the closest thing to what I always thought a parent should be, and the world would be a worse off place without you in it._

_Your friend in time,_

_Alexander Lavelle Harris_

Rupert Giles, for quite possibly the first time in his life, didn't know what the hell to think.

The entire thing was almost enough to drive any man mad. He couldn't help but admire Xander's tactical genius for planning ahead like this, and at the same time curse the boy for putting him into this sort of position.

{ Joyce dies? } The thought horrified the British man. The effect it would have on Buffy would be devastating, and he didn't need Xander's prophetic warnings of doom to know that. But if his ex-lover was destined to die, to no longer be part of the tapestry of life after the next year - did he have the right to meddle with that?

Finally though, after a great deal of soul-searching Giles just went with his instincts. He picked up the phone and dialed a number he knew by heart, 555-0193; "Hello, Joyce? It's me, Rupert Giles. I need for you to come over at once...there's a letter I need to show you."

**New Hope Family Shelter, Los Angeles, California. A few minutes later**

The three teenagers had been hustled out of the room by paramedics, about two minutes earlier. They had been mostly incoherent, but unharmed. And they were also lucky beyond what they could even comprehend.

The demon slavers remained on the floor, under the watchful eyes of the heavily armed FBI agents. The body of their less intelligent comrade was an example of why they *really* didn't want to test the kindness of their human captors.

The leader of the demons lay face down, thinking furiously. Something had obviously gone terribly wrong. The humans had come here knowing what to expect. But maybe they didn't know everything...

And how *could* they know everything? The only real witnesses were conditioned to not cooperate with anyone except the undisguised demons. They could only respond "I'm no one" when approached by anybody else, before they died. { Yeah, I may be able to talk my way out of this. Pretend I'm human and make them think that all the really bad stuff was just the underlings going too far... }

"Well, at least we know for sure now that bullets will kill these things."

That statement drew the demon's attention to the doorway that the FBI SWAT team had entered through. Cleburne and several other Siberians walked through, all dressed in the black fatigues that were popular amongst SWAT teams throughout the world.

The demon leader suddenly felt his stomach heave in terror, as he saw who was among the group. { No. No! Not him - that escapee who killed Ken? If he's here, damn it - they'll know *everything*! } He looked at Xander, with barely-concealed terror.

Cleburne walked over to the dead demon, and flipped him over. Xander and the others looked at the body, then Harris knelt down and pulled away the false face mask. Cleburne grimaced, then he too knelt down to examine the corpse closely.

"Three bullet spread to the chest. Almost instantly fatal, from what they tell me. Our normal armaments should do the trick." He glanced up at one of his agents. "Go get the gear from the van, and we'll suit up. Have the rest of the team do the same."

The agent nodded and headed out of the room, taking two other agents with him. Cleburne then looked around, "Recognize any of these things, kid?"

Xander looked closely at the demons. Now, they were the ones trying to avoid the eyes of their captors, not the humans.

Xander's gaze fell upon the leader of the demon slave gatherers. He walked over to him with a look of glee on his face, "Oh, this one I remember; he was number two on my shit list way back when. He took...great joy in his work." Harris then leaned down towards him. "I remember when I killed Ken, you led your people back through the portal. Took over back home, did you?"

The demon didn't respond. He remembered all the things done to this particular human; how could he not, given the peculiar way Xander had arrived into their domain? Ken had done most of the torture, but some of it was by his own hand. So the demon knew there was nothing he could say now that would help him.

{ We should have killed you that very first day, damn it! Well, maybe I can fight my way out of here. What's the worst that could happen, I'll get myself shot? } The demon's thoughts were quickly disrupted from a sharp pain, behind its right knee. It then screamed out in horrible pain.

Xander stood up, from where he had stuck a knife into the back of the demon's leg. "Now that I have your attention? You're going to tell us everything we can expect on the other side of that pit, whether anything's changed since the old days." With that, Xander leaned back down and pulled the knife out. The pain intensified for the demon.

"And if you don't? Well, there are so *many* ideas you gave me from my time in your care that I want to try out - and my opinion, you'll make a great test subject for them."

**Thirty minutes later**

Xander checked his body armor, as the other Siberians did the same. The demons had talked quite quickly, when they suddenly found themselves the target of pain from the humans - instead of the other way around.

{ They've beefed up security a lot, but practically nothing else. Typical. There should be no surprises for us on the other side, } Xander shrugged to himself.

The room, now empty of the demons, was filled with a little over two dozen soldiers. All of them wore reinforced body armor. Most of them had helmets on; and all of them were heavily armed, too.

Two of the operatives he'd recognized from the time of the Initiative. Forrest Gates and Graham Miller were suited up, like the others. But Riley Finn was a no-show. Xander knew he was involved with STW; but for the time being, Finn was not involved in anything Xander had had a hand in. Which was just as well; as no headaches were needed for this operation.

And for the first time, Xander felt like he was a part of the group. The bantering between them, Xander participated freely in it all the way from Illinois; and it had felt good. It had been quite a long time since the former slave had felt like he belonged to anything, besides his own thoughts and memories.

Actually, even though he could remember that future history, not since the end of his junior year of high school (when he had been effectively thrown out of the Scoobies) had Harris felt like a member of a group. But nowadays he felt accepted within the Siberians, with all their attendant quirks. The only other time that even came close was in the future history when he, Buffy and Dawn had almost bonded as a family, the summer Willow had gone to England after her murderous rampage.

Siberian Trip Wire was a mixture of the exotic and mundane that most people, including Xander at times, would find jarring. Xander still remembered the meeting he had once attended on how to neutralize a vampire nest with ranged weapons and napalm, when the instructor had dismissed everyone so that he could go watch his kid's little league baseball game...

In the past few months, Xander had also discovered that the American intelligence community was more aware of mental health issues than most other employers in the world. STW had a team of psychiatrists on staff, to help out any members who had trouble coping with their work. So the higher-ups had decided that if Hollins' scheme was to work, that Xander could benefit from some of their attention.

Xander hadn't been thrilled about that. He had been even less thrilled when he'd met Dr. Angleman, and realized just who he was - or rather would have been, if history had turned out the way it had before.

The thing was, Dr. Angleman would have been Maggie Walsh's right-hand man in that little shop of horrors known as the Initiative. Seeing him in the flesh had not amused. Of course, by the time Xander had met him, it was outside the time period he had interacted with the Initiative - so at least there were no mind-splitting headaches, from conflicting memories.

Just the normal headaches, associated with dealing with someone who thought Walsh was a good role model.

Xander had complained about the mandatory attendance - and also been surprised to learn that Cleburne agreed with him somewhat, with regard to what the agent called the 'goddamn headshrinker bullshit'. However, the idea for the counseling had come from Hollins and Marcum. So Xander had to endure it, in order to qualify for field assignments.

Thus the young man had gone to meeting after meeting with Dr. Angleman, for the past two months. And Xander had taken the opportunity to have some fun with the shrink, messing around with the guy's mind. Something to break up the monotony, anyway, of waiting to get the green light for fieldwork.

And now, at last, his chance had come. He was going back to the place of nightmares, to find and deal with those who had inflicted so much pain on him in the past.

{ Granted, it can't make up for everything they did; and for all those I couldn't save, all the people I saw get whipped and tortured over the years. But still, this makes me happy. Very, very happy, } Xander thought way too calmly, as he checked the CAR-15 submachine gun they had given him.

Cleburne walked along, examining each operative. Checking the weapons and armor on each of them. His actions were duplicated by two others; a short, squat, bulldog-looking man and a red-haired guy smoking a cigar. The three of them had managed to examine almost every one of the operatives in the room, and would soon be ready to go.

Cleburne came up to Xander, and quickly visually checked his armor and equipment. He reached over, and tightened one of the straps on the bulletproof vest. He glanced at the weapon in Xander's shoulder holster.

"You taking that old cannon?" the senior agent asked, referring to the Colt .45 1911 Xander had procured from that LA drug dealer, when he had first escaped from the hell dimension.

"Like you're one to talk," Xander responded, pointing at the .357 caliber revolver Cleburne carried in his shoulder holster. "That thing is more of a cannon that everything else you're carrying!"

"Well, revolvers don't jam. That old piece of yours has a habit of jamming. I remember what the instructors used to say about .45's; once it jams, just throw it at the enemy 'cause you ain't getting it unjammed anytime soon." He patted his hip holster. "Besides, I've also got the Glock to use, kid. Here, put this on." He handed a black helmet to Xander.

"I don't see you wearing one," Xander chided the other man, as he put the helmet on.

Cleburne's response was a laugh. "Trust me. I'm too hard-headed to kill." He reached over, and adjusted the strap on the helmet. "Here; this way the helmet stays on, but if someone tries to choke you with the strap, it'll give way. Learned that trick from the riot police in Seoul, many years ago."

"Okay, Mother Hen," Xander said with a smirk.

One of the advantages of belonging to STW nowadays was that he knew one of the nicknames the field ops called Cleburne, behind his back. And unlike the others, Xander didn't feel the need to restrict that nickname to usage when the agent wasn't around.

Cleburne squinted his eyes, and glared at Xander. He then turned and faced the others, "Okay, listen up. You all know the drill. But a few things we learned from our last-minute 'debriefing' of the bad guys on-site..." All of the Siberians paid attention to their leader.

"We've got about 30, 40 hostiles on the other side, in the immediate vicinity. Mostly with bladed weapons, but also some crossbows and the like. They all look like that piece of decaying flesh over there." He pointed at the body of the demon. "And they should be dressed in some sort of guard uniform. None of them should look human. However, if you come across a human dressed in a presentable way and not in a cage, be aware it may one of the hostiles with his disguise still on."

Cleburne took a breath and continued on. "Also, watch your flanks. The prisoners told us that there are additional portals to Chicago, Houston and New York down there. Local authorities should be sealing them up on their end, but something still might come through, so be aware of that - and make sure nothing sneaks up on your six."

A pause. "We're not sure how the slaves will react. And given what Hall's experience was like-" he pointed to Xander, using the undercover name that all these operatives knew him by. "I don't think there's any chance of Stockholm syndrome, in this situation. But nonetheless, keep your guard up. They may hide during the fighting, they may run or they may try to join in. So be prepared for anything."

He motioned to the three young-looking women, standing off to the side. "Our friends here will be keeping the portal open, for as long as we need. Isn't that right, ladies?"

One of the three sisters spoke up, "Such were the terms of the contract."

Another chimed in, "And as long as Alexander is equipped to make good on his debt."

The third of the Transuding Furies finished up, "Services rendered now, are acceptable to deferred payment later."

"Payment?" Graham whispered to Forrest.

"Mmmm, Alexander," all three of the Furies chorused as they overheard him, and his teammates got the idea and stared at Harris; who blushed red down to his roots, like the high school geek he once had been.

"Right," Cleburne semi-chuckled. "So all of you, don't worry about getting stuck there. Nobody gets left behind on my watch," he said with finality. He looked out at the group. "Any questions?"

"What about prisoners?"

"Don't go out of your way to take any. These bozos, they really are more trouble than they're worth. If we wind up with some, so be it; we bring 'em back with us. But this is primarily an S&R op, so do what you have to do."

"How careful should we be to avoid civilian losses?"

"Again, do what you can. Those kids have literally been though hell, so no reason to add to it." He looked around. "Any other questions?" Silence was his response.

"Okay, let's do this." He put on a baseball cap. "Stay with your fire teams. Gunny!" The short, bulldog-looking man nodded in response. "The kid is my responsibility. Make sure nothing happens to his ass."

"Hey!" Xander said. But like a good soldier Gunny just moved over to where Xander was, and stood behind him.

"Hall, if you get killed or wounded, I will never hear the end of it from Marcum or the Wizard. Besides, you're a field advisor, not a field op; at least, not quite yet." He adjusted the headset for his radio mike, and looked out at his field operatives.

"Thirty seconds!" he then called out. Several of them, Cleburne included, bowed their heads for a few seconds - as if in prayer.

The heads raised up. Cleburne checked the watch. "Fifteen seconds." He chambered a round in the CAR-15 submachine gun he was carrying. "Ten seconds." He stepped to the edge of the black tar pit. "Five. Four. Three. Two-"

"All right, ladies, fangs out!" With that, the STW agent stepped forward into the tar pit, and vanished into another world; where time moved very differently.

**The slaver hell dimension. A few minutes later**

Xander kept his head low as he took cover behind one of the huge machines the demons had been working with slave labor, as a crossbow bolt hit the wall above his head. The operation had been going well, so far.

The demons had expected more slaves to come through the portal, not a bunch of angry commandos. Thus the initial group of demons at the entryway had fallen quickly, without the chance to sound the alarm.

The next obstacle had been the massive door to the entryway. It effectively stopped almost all attempts by the slaves to escape, being far too heavy for ordinary humans to lift it; and thus, it had to be taken out as soon as possible.

In the reality that had never happened, only one human had been able to lift the door; Buffy had used her Slayer strength on the damn thing to help a bunch of slaves get loose, during her escape from the hellish factory she had found herself in.

But, in this version of history, the door had only failed once in another way. Xander's escape had been timed to the change of the guards' shifts, so the demons themselves had opened it right before Xander had put his plan into action.

Now on his return to the hell dimension, Harris and the commandos he was with had something just as good as Slayer strength.

Explosives. Lots of them. And the blast of the door being totally destroyed had brought the guards running...

Right into the advancing Siberians.

Xander smiled to himself. { Short fight, those bastards weren't prepared to deal with humans able to resist them. Gooood. } The human army had gone through the first group of demons in no time flat, and quickly found themselves on the factory floor.

The fight had then become a series of small actions, as the STW operatives split into their fire teams and spread out to their objectives.

Xander could tell that it was all going the Siberians' way, so far. At most the demons had crossbows, which really were not a match for the firearms carried by the humans. So the supernatural creatures fell back in retreat, trying to figure out what to do.

The human slaves mostly tried to stay out of the way, hiding where they could. A pitiful few of them took the opportunity to attack their tormentors; Xander watched as one demon was swarmed over by five humans, swinging their makeshift clubs at him.

{ Must be new arrivals here, } he thought. { Betcha they're not even conditioned to say "I'm no one" yet. God, this place brings back bad memories... }

He suddenly found himself pushed down to the ground. Xander then looked up in anger, sore from the impact. Gunny crouched down next to him, and pointed at a crossbow bolt that had dented the machine behind Xander. "Watch what's going on, Hall. You get killed, Mother Hen will make my life hell!"

Before Xander could snap off a response, he heard Cleburne call out. "Kid, get up here!"

Xander instantly made his way to where Cleburne was, on top of a walkway. He was looking down on a group of demons on the other side of the factory. The enemy had several crossbows with them, and had pinned down some of the human soldiers. Gunny followed Xander, keeping an eye out.

"Any other way to the cell blocks, besides going through that demon convention there?" the commanding officer asked.

Xander looked around, and shook his head. "Nope, you gotta go through that passageway to get to the target. No way around it, as far as I know."

The agent thought for a second. "All right." He keyed the microphone he was wearing. "Gomez! Give those creeps an Easter egg, five seconds from - mark. Fire teams B & C, rush their position right after the egg arrives!"

Off to Xander's left, a commando popped up holding a grenade launcher. He quickly fired off a round; the grenade then sailed into the middle of the demon pack, and exploded.

The demons, those that weren't killed immediately, were thrown aside helter-skelter. As they started to get up, the good guys rushed forward, firing single shots from their weapons as they did.

"Come on! Move your asses!" Cleburne was up and moving. Xander and the others followed him.

By the time they got to where the demons had been, there was quite a bit of blood on the floor. A couple of the guards had survived to try and fight the Siberians, in hand-to-hand combat. But they hadn't lasted for more than a couple of seconds; anyone used to beating helpless slaves was just no match for these trained, professional killers.

Xander entered the passageway, following several of the commandos. { Oh yeah, I remember this hallway, } he thought grimly. Shots rang down the passageway, as several demons were encountered up ahead. Xander ran down the corridor faster. { Hey, don't all of you bastards be dead before I get there! }

Xander then entered the room where the cells used to house the slaves were. Several of the demons were present, fighting the commandos. The slaves were in the cells, yelling at the soldiers, trying to understand what was going on. But then one of the demons suddenly appeared in front of Xander, and swung an axe at him.

His old army reflexes kicking in, the former slave ducked down and allowed the axe to sail over his head. He used his submachine gun as a club, ramming it hard into the demon's gut. The slaver fell back, grunting.

Xander pressed his advantage, kicking the demon in the face, hard, as he fell to the ground. The demon's axe fell loose; Xander reached down and grabbed it, dropping his own weapon as he did.

For the first time, the demon guard got a good look at Xander's face. "You!" he croaked out in pain, and the shock of recognition.

"Yeah, me. I'm baaaack!" Xander said, as he swung the axe into the demon's face, making a sickeningly wet thud as it got stuck in the former guard's body. { Damn, but that felt good! } Xander then put his booted foot on the demon's body, and heaved the axe up out of his late tormentor; blood sprayed his face. He looked around...

Gunny was standing next to him with a glare on his face, holding two submachine guns in his hands. "Hall! Don't drop your weapon again. I don't want these freaks shooting at us with bullets!"

Xander just smiled at him. "Hold onto that for me, will you?" Xander turned and advanced further into the room, wielding the axe with great glee. Gunny silently cursed at the loose cannon, slung Xander's CAR-15 over his shoulder and followed after him, taking a shot here and there at the demons that were still fighting.

Xander continued his bloody trip through the room, and down an even bloodier memory lane. The young man had spent quite a bit of time in this room, during his stint in Hell. Thus several of the demons recognized him, and after the inevitable curses tried to attack him.

All of them met with an extremely violent and painful demise.

Suddenly, Xander found himself facing a demon clutching a struggling teenage girl to his chest. "What's going on!? Humans are not supposed to act like this! What are you, vampires or something?"

"Do I look like a lousy bloodsucker to you?" Xander said emotionlessly, as he advanced on the demon.

"Stay back! I'll kill her, if you don't let me leave!" He shook the crying girl. Xander slowed down at that, looking for an opening.

Suddenly, a voice came from behind him. "You know something?"

The demon looked annoyed at this question. "What?" he shouted out, right before a bullet hole appeared in his forehead. The demon's body started to sag, the screaming girl falling out of its grip as it did so.

Xander turned around to see who was behind him. Gunny was there, holding up his CAR-15, smoke coming from its barrel. "You're a lot taller than she is."

**The apartment of Rupert Giles, Sunnydale, California. The same time**

Joyce Summers sat on the couch quietly, her hands folded in front of her. Xander's letter was on the table in front of her, where the blonde woman had put it after she had finished reading it.

Giles looked on with concern. Joyce had been silent for ten minutes, after she'd finished perusing the paper. The Englishman just sat in the chair across from the couch, wanting to help but not sure what to say.

After all, what *do* you say to someone who has just read their own death warrant?

"I'll need to make sure my health insurance is fully paid up, and upgrade to a better life insurance policy," the ex-Mrs. Summers suddenly said.

Giles started a little bit at Joyce's statement. "I beg your pardon?"

"Well, if the tumor shows up as having already developed, I can upgrade my health insurance without really paying that much more. The life insurance company will be harder to deal with once they know about my condition, of course."

"Joyce..." Giles said soothingly, wanting to help the woman he had once had sexual relations with.

"Don't you Joyce me, Rupert. I have to think of these things now, before I fall apart; which'll happen sooner rather than later, most likely..." She pointed at the letter. "We both know what the odds are, and you read what Xander wrote the same as I did. Buffy's going to need me. I have to be strong for her. That's all there is to it."

She folded her arms across her chest. "I'll meet with Joan, and make sure the finances are all in shape..." referring to her CPA. "I'll make an appointment with my lawyer tomorrow, as well. Update my will, and maybe establish a trust fund for Buffy. The art gallery also needs to be taken care of. Maybe I can find a way for Buffy to hold onto it if..." her voice faltered for a few seconds. "If something does happen to me."

"Joyce, this isn't - we should first see about getting you to a doctor. An MRI specialist, o-or something," Giles said softly.

Joyce nodded. "Yes, yes we will, but first let's get everything lined up on the money front. I can't afford to fall into complete poverty, if I get sick. I've read enough horror stories in the newspapers about families going bankrupt, because of an illness like this."

Giles nodded, Joyce was clearly keeping her head for the time being. "What do you need me to do?"

"Nothing for now, Rupert. Just - just let me have that letter."

**Outside the New Hope Family Shelter, Los Angeles, California**

Lily and Cordy maneuvered their way through the police vehicles, parked in front of the shelter. They had been challenged a few times, but each time the ID papers given to Lily by the LAPD had allowed them to pass. Several ambulances sat nearby with their doors open, and paramedics loitering nearby.

Cordelia looked around. "Do you know what to expect?" she asked her friend.

"No. I got the feeling that the police don't really, either. They just said the Feds were raiding some cult, and that there would be hostages that needed treatment and counseling." She looked puzzled for a second. "No, wait; they never actually said hostages. They said...prisoners or slaves. They seemed a little freaked out by the whole thing."

"Yeah, well, they look it." Cordy looked around at the LAPD officers, who clearly were not in charge of the scene. The Federal agents, wearing jackets with FBI printed on the back of them, were calling the shots here.

There were three teenagers wearing robes with towels wrapped around their shoulders in one of the ambulances. Lily and Cordelia spotted them, and so headed over towards them.

"Hi, you okay? Do you need anything? Better yet, is there anything I can do?" the blonde asked the nearest kid, a slight girl with dirty blonde hair.

"What the hell's going on?" the teenager asked in a small voice. "We were inside, the counselors said we had to go through a purification ceremony. They had us put these robes on, and took us into a room with this gross slime pit! But before we could get purified, the FBI broke in and shot up the entire place..." She hesitated for a second. "One of the counselors was shot, a-and he started bleeding to death; but-but the blood was black, not red..."

Cordy and Lily exchanged a look. Both knew about the things that went bump in the night, and finally realized that things were now gonna get complicated.

Cordelia Chase moved to comfort the scared girl, no longer the tactless bitch she'd been in high school - thanks to the never-ending vision throes the demon Vocah had put her through, around the time he'd slaughtered the Oracles. "Don't worry, everything's all right now..." She looked around. { Why haven't they been taken to the hospital or something? And why are all these paramedics just sitting around, waiting? }

Suddenly, a huge racket came from inside the building, in answer to Cordy's silent question.

A long line of ragged people, most of them crying or looking lost, started coming out of the entrance to the shelter. The paramedics sprang into action, and started towards to them. Within a minute or two, the people were clustered in a large group around the ambulances as the paramedics moved among them, treating the obvious injuries, and looking for the non-obvious ones too.

With nothing else to do, Cordy and Lily gave whatever help they could.

**Inside the New Hope Family Shelter**

Xander climbed out of the pit, helped up by some of the commandos. He moved from the black portal, and collapsed in exhaustion. The guy glanced up at the digital clock that had been set up on the wall, before they'd left. It showed they had only been gone about five minutes or so.

{ On this end, that is. And yet, we just spent three days in the hell dimension... }

The STW soldiers had spent their time there scouring every square inch of the place, to make sure no captives had been left behind. Cleburne had been deathly serious when he'd said no one was getting left behind on his watch. Every human in the plant had been found and sent back through the portal, to planet Earth.

The Siberians had also done a few things designed to discourage any demons who might have been left behind alive, from ever trying to restart the idea of finding cheap labor in this dimension. The counterattack on the second day by demons from outside the factory had gone badly enough for them, that they didn't bother the humans for the rest of their stay.

The few demon prisoners they had taken were brought up through the pit. Only a handful had survived the commandos' assault, followed by the wrath of the slaves. They would be interrogated with regard to their species' activities in this realm, but after that Xander wasn't sure what was going to happen to them.

Next through the pit came the three body bags, bearing the dead casualties of war; which unfortunately included Forrest Gates.

Xander truly regretted his death. He had gotten to know the guy during the battle, and realized that his experience with Gates that year in college before Adam had killed him, had not been the true reflection of the soldier's character. Xander understood now why Riley Finn had considered him his best friend.

The remainder of the Siberians then came up out of the pit, Cleburne coming out last. He caught his breath as he exited, and looked over at the three Furies; who had been keeping the portal open, despite the demons' attempts to close it.

"That's it, ladies. Last one out was me. Seal her up tight," Cleburne ordered.

The women nodded at the agent and the black tar pit vanished, just leaving the tiles on the floor.

"Everything's secure?" Xander asked them without thinking.

"Mmmm, Alexander," the Furies chorused, once they had accomplished their task. The commandos who heard them started chuckling. Xander just felt himself blushing again.

Cleburne laughed out loud. "Tomorrow ladies, because tonight the kid learns about the traditional post-op celebrations of Siberian Trip Wire..."

**Outside the New Hope Family Shelter**

Cordy moved from victim to victim, helping however she could. { What the hell have these people gone through? }

Most of them were scared to death of everything, shying away from those trying to help them. And when asked to identify themselves, they just kept mumbling, "I'm no one."

Several of them were physically injured, consistent with being deliberately tortured. Cordy felt herself getting angry about that. She knew that the demons - well, she *assumed* it was demons, as the 19-year-old woman had not been able to get a look at them - responsible for this had just been taken away in a covered van under heavy guard. And they were lucky she couldn't get her hands on them...

The Vision Girl of Angel Investigations glanced up, as she saw some of the SWAT team members who had captured the demons coming out. She then turned back to the victim in front of her to make sure the blanket covered him properly...when something in the back of the brunette's mind started screaming for attention.

{ What the HELL!? No, it couldn't have been- } Her head snapped back around, and Cordelia stared at the agents as they walked away from the building. After a few seconds though, seeing nothing, Ms. Chase turned back to caring for the released slaves.

{ It's impossible. Xander's dead! I must just have imagined it, } Cordy shakily thought to herself, fighting down the bad memories of high school - when the former ruler of Sunnydale High's elite had thrown away to Faith, the guy she'd later realized that she still wanted.

Up above, the photographer snapped more pictures. And he was already thinking of the different people he could sell these pictures to; not realizing just how significant some of the shots would be.

Several yards away, Xander climbed into the waiting van. And as Fate would have it, the 23-year-old didn't realize it was only because he had turned left to put his body armor into another van, that had prevented his ex-girlfriend from seeing him again - after she'd caught a glimpse of Harris a few seconds before.

Cleburne, Graham Miller and the red-haired agent also climbed into the van and closed the door behind them, as the vehicle started driving off. "So, what's this tradition you keep talking about? Are we going to Disneyland or something?" Xander asked.

Cleburne grinned at him. "No, not Disneyland. Red, you wanna tell us what you found for the entertainment tonight?"

Red grinned right back at them. "We're going to an urban legend of LA. A Karaoke bar!"

Cleburne responded for all of them in the van. "Oh, crap!"

**The private office of Lilah Morgan, Wolfram & Hart building, Los Angeles**

Lilah examined the photographs carefully, as there were several shots that were of great interest of her. Her assistant stood off to the side, waiting patiently.

"Has anyone else seen these pictures?" Lilah suddenly asked, turning around.

"I don't know at the moment, the photographer is a stringer who sells to the various media outlets. I do know that he approached us first, though. We've bought from him in the past."

"Make sure we're his only clients for these particular shots. Whatever it takes."

The assistant nodded, and headed out to make the necessary arrangements. As he did so, Lilah picked up her phone and dialed a number. "Sir, I think we've got enough to proceed with the proposal we discussed earlier. I can have the papers drawn up by the end of business today. Really? Thank you, Holland, that's very kind of you..."

TBC...


	7. Chapter 7

**Part Seven**

**The private office of Lilah Morgan, Wolfram & Hart building, Los Angeles. July, 2000**

"Mr. Harris, please listen to me very carefully," Lilah said with exasperation into the telephone. "There's been a new development in the case...*no*, they haven't settled yet. And this doesn't actually involve the school board-"

The papers were lying upon Lilah's desk. They had in fact been finished an hour before the close of business. Of course, the problem with legal papers was that you needed someone to sign them; in other words, a client. A plaintiff, or defendant.

And in this case, it would have to be a man and woman who had started drinking quite a bit earlier in the day - and to be perfectly honest, hadn't stopped since.

"Mr. Harris - fine, *Anthony*. We need you to review some papers...no, no, these can't be faxed back through our local counsel there. You and your wife need to sign the originals." She listened for several seconds, drumming her fingers on her desk. "No, this really can't wait till tomorrow. We're working under a big time constraint here - what? I'm sorry, what does that mean?"

The garbled voice mentioning something about Jack Daniels and peppermint schnapps indicated that obviously, this approach wasn't getting her anywhere. { Time to fall back on the red carpet treatment. Schmooze these good-for-nothing drunken assholes... } "Anthony, we can have a car at your house in twenty minutes. And it can drive you all the way here to LA, in under two hours." { Which, hopefully, will be enough time for you and your insecure cow of a wife to sober up... }

"No, there'll be no expense to you at all. We can put you up in a five-star hotel, maybe even get you tickets to a show later tonight or tomorrow." She listened again and mentally sighed, "Yes, yes Anthony, I'm sure about the hotel thing. And it'll be a suite, not just a hotel room, and it definitely will have an open bar-"

Lilah then smiled, as the very positive response came through. "Good, we can have the car there in a hour. That should give you and your wife enough time to pack for an overnight stay. The driver will bring you right to my office. No problem at all, I'll be glad to wait. And I'll be happy to see you too."

The junior partner of the firm hung up the phone. { Yeah, right. I'm overjoyed at the thought of being pawed at by that lecherous unemployed drunk, every time his wife's back is turned! } She then hit the intercom button.

"Yes, ma'am?" the voice of her assistant almost immediately answered.

"Have a limo pick up the Harrises at their house in Sunnydale, an hour from now. The chauffeur is to bring them straight here to my office. And tell the driver that he might want to have a large supply of coffee on hand, when he does pick them up. No alcohol, till they're here. They need to be at least semi-coherent for our meeting."

"Understood, ma'am," was the short response over the intercom.

Dismissing his words, Lilah looked out of her window at the sunset. A fair amount of Wolfram & Hart's business was done after dark, so the office was still humming with activity. The brunette then turned to her computer, gathering her thoughts.

{ So. Phase one complete. Now I need to find a judge to file this in front of. Needs to be one that's distrustful of everything the government says, too. Someone who thinks Oliver Stone was hiding the real truth of JFK's assassination to protect the government. Hmmm, let's see... } A wide grin then came to her beautiful face.

"Perfect," she said out loud. { San Francisco judges. You gotta love them! }

**Chinatown, Los Angeles, California. Later that evening**

Xander followed the other Siberians down the stairway. The entire way over, Cleburne had been complaining. The thought of being the patron of a Karaoke bar did not exactly fill him with joy and love...

"Red, I can't believe you picked out a damn Karaoke bar! I figured you would want to make up for that mess in Pittsburgh, a few years back-" the STW chieftain started to say.

Up in front, the agent called Red laughed out loud. "I thought you liked it there. After all, you kept getting offered free drinks and asked to dance at the place..."

A growl was the response from Cleburne. "Right. Me dance? In a gay bar!?" The rest of the agents laughed out loud at that one.

Xander had learned of the post-op bar invasion tradition of the Siberian field ops, during the van ride over to this place. After a successful operation, the agents would go out to a bar and drink everyone they could under the table. And more often than not, fight those they couldn't outdrink as well.

Of course, not just any bar would do. It was always a bar that would raise eyebrows. A biker bar, or even a cop bar. Some kind of bar that normal people would shun out of concern or fear of the regular patrons, anyway. The Siberians flocked to that kind of bar, and made it their own for the night.

One of the operatives would choose, and the Siberians would head there. Red had been the one to choose tonight, as it was his turn. Still, Cleburne continued complaining.

'I figured you would pick something like a stewardess bar, you know? There has to be one out there *somewhere*. Or maybe a stuntman bar, after all - we are in Los Angeles! But you had to go and pick a Karaoke bar? You're going to pay for this. Lemme guess - when you came here earlier, you saw a waitress you wanted to make it with. That's why you're dragging us here, right?"

Red smiled. "Boss, let's just say I think you're going to appreciate this place. It goes with our new look and attitude, after all."

Cleburne frowned. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he demanded, as they arrived at the entrance to the club.

Red just smiled, opened the door and motioned for the others to enter. They stepped in...

And Cleburne was the first to speak. "Red, I'm going to kill you. Then I'm going to carve you into little itty bitty pieces, and burn them. Then I'm taking the ashes and shooting them off into space, on board the goddamn space shuttle!" he shouted, as they all looked out over the floor of Caritas, the demon bar whose name meant 'mercy' in Latin.

Xander was definitely having mixed emotions about all this, as they trooped inside the place protected from violence by a sanctuary spell. On the one hand, he was no big fan of demonkind; it was impossible not to be, after spending nearly 55 months in a hell world.

But on the other, what with the future memories the young human had acquired, he knew that not all demons were dedicated to the destruction of all life...

Xander suddenly remembered the floppy-eared demon called Clem, back in Sunnydale. The guy had helped Buffy, for no reason other than it was the right thing to do; and he had looked after Dawn as well, a few months before the First had shown up. Heck, the non-violent creature had even sat down with his side of the family during that wedding debacle with Anya, and had secretly been the one he'd been the least ashamed of...

So, for the moment, the soldier decided he would just go with the flow. { As long as no one tries anything funny, that is... }

"Welcome to Caritas! Someone'll be with you in just a minute," a green-skinned female demon waved to the group, as she juggled an order of drinks.

"Well, one thing for sure, Red won't be making it with any of the waitresses here," Xander observed cynically.

**LAPD station headquarters. A few minutes later**

Detective Kate Lockley finished up typing the report of day's activities on her computer. A task easier said than done nowadays, given how she couldn't say anything about the things that *really* went on in her city.

{ Strange day indeed, } the blonde woman thought. { Even for me. } Because life had gotten damned weird for her, the past year or so. Meeting the ensouled vampire called Angel had introduced her to a world she had never even suspected existed...

Not that she was *grateful* for that, of course. And the vampires that had murdered her father five months ago had made her bitter, angry and determined to get rid of the weird crap in La-la land.

Now these Feds that she had worked with today, they seemed even stranger than her undead acquaintance. Kate was rather frustrated by their incredible secretiveness and aloofness, it was like they resented the fact she even knew they'd been around. The cop wanted to give them a piece of her mind for treating her that way.

And more importantly, the young woman also wanted to find out how the hell they'd known about that demon slave ring operating unnoticed, right under her nose...

A uniformed officer approached her desk, carrying a folder. "Got some information for you, about the excitement this morning. It's kinda strange-"

She looked up at the officer and took the file. "Hey, everything about today was frickin' strange! I've been sitting here for ages, trying to write a report that doesn't make it sound like we all need to be in a loony bin..."

The officer sighed. "Well, this isn't going to help then."

Lockley sighed too. "What is it?"

The bluesuit hesitated a second, then continued. "Well, I've been down at the hospital helping with the victims. They're scared of absolutely everything; but on the other hand, they're docile and will do just about anything we ask of them. So, fingerprinting has gone much quicker than normal, for that many people. 'Course, the results simply don't make any sense..."

The blonde-haired detective frowned. "What do you mean?"

The cop pointed to the file folded in Kate's hands. She opened it up, and looked at the report on top. It was a missing person's flier, with a picture of a young girl.

"Fingerprints came back for a Rachel Hunt, 14 years old, runaway from Chicago. Been missing about two months from her home."

"So?" Kate asked, or rather demanded.

The officer reached over, and turned the pages of the report to the third page. "This is what she looks like now, an hour ago at the hospital."

"This is impossible!" A picture of a middle-aged woman with drawn features, yet oddly resembling the teenage girl, stared back at her. "Someone must have mixed up the results here. Run the tests again."

"We did. In fact, we did it five times, just to be sure. There's no mistake. I even had the Chicago PD fax us their hard copies, just to be 100% certain. No doubt about it, either someone else has the exact same fingerprints as her - or that is Rachel Hunt, age 14."

Kate massaged her forehead. She had the nasty suspicion that she was going to have to consult with the experts on LA's weirdness about this, and that did not make her happy. "What does she say?"

"Just keeps mumbling the same thing as the others. 'I'm no one'." The officer cogitated for a second. "And, FYI, practically all of the others at the hospital are the same way. The ID matches are all for someone who should be a lot younger than they look."

"Any chance it could just be a case of a hard life making them look older than they really are?" Lockley asked, grasping at straws and instantly berating herself for an idiot.

The officer shook his head. "No way, the docs have looked them over. And they're all older than they should be. Something screwy has happened here-"

Kate snorted. "Sure! But can anyone explain what's going on?"

"Not really, although..."

"WHAT?!" Kate shouted, in no mood for his hesitation.

The policeman shrugged. "Well, that Lily Steele woman and her friend from the runaway shelter, they didn't seem all that freaked out. And the Feds..."

"What about them? What do they have to say about this? Can they explain it?" Kate felt a flush of anger at the mention of the group.

"No, but they weren't surprised at all. Just shook their heads and said that, uh, the necessary arrangements will be made."

Kate slammed her palm down on the desk. "Necessary arrangements, my ass!" The female detective stood up from the desk. "Where are the men in black, anyway? And I don't mean the peons, where's the head honcho behind all this?"

"No idea. Whoever he was, he's not at the hospital. I did overhear some of the Federal agents talking about going to a really weird Karaoke bar-"

Lockley stood up. "I don't suppose you have any idea, where I can find this so-called really weird Karaoke bar?"

**Caritas Karaoke bar, Los Angeles, California. Three hours later**

{ Well, gotta admit; I definitely called that one wrong! } Xander thought to himself, as he watched the agent known as Red chatting up the giggling demon waitress.

The STW operative had been making steady progress the whole evening, and Xander fully suspected that he and the waitress would be going home together tonight. { Well, what the hell, she *is* pretty good-looking for a demon. Nice body and everything, even if she is as green as the St. Patrick's Day underwear Willow wore back in third grade... }

Still, Xander was a little bothered by the potential liaison. Which struck him as kinda funny, due to his long-term relationship with the former demon Anya, that would now never happen - as far as he knew.

In any case, despite his early worries and spoken objections, Cleburne had adapted to the bar. The Siberians had taken over a bunch of tables off to the side, and by this time they were almost completely covered with drinks and empty glasses. The agents clearly were not strangers to hard drinking; Xander suspected that they could even outdrink his parents, who he had thought were without comparison when it came to consuming liquor.

However, unlike his parents, they didn't seem to lose control or start with the verbal abuse. He sensed at some level, they all retained some level of control. This was confirmed when an hour or so ago, two of the agents had started to pick a fight with a table full of demons. Cleburne had spoken up suddenly...

"HEY! Knock it off, you two. There's a spell in place here, that prevents them from fighting back. So don't pick on anyone, if they can't even hit you!" That piece of information had been learned very quickly from Red's questioning of the waitress.

The agents had simply shrugged, and quickly bought a round of free drinks for the demons. Which had gone a long way to smoothing things over. A few of the demons had even returned the favor and bought drinks for the agents, and the good mood in the establishment had picked up again.

The demons in the bar seemed to tolerate the presence of the human commandos, as this was a sanctuary for all - except dealers of the deadly, damned drug called 'Orpheus'. Oh, some vampires had left quickly once they began eyeing the soldiers greedily, and then were made to feel unwelcome in their own bar. Several of the agents had muttered darkly about taking the vamps out...

So one or two of the undead had been followed out the door, with the agents returning a few minutes later and brushing dust off their clothes. That image had quickly emptied Caritas of the bloodsuckers.

The remaining demons seemed to be in no hurry to try and stir up trouble. They all knew about the anti-violence spell in place. And a garbled version of the news had spread through the demon community quickly, as to what had happened to the slaver demons earlier in the day. So no demon wanted to pick a fight with the humans tonight, particularly when they couldn't fight back here.

Besides, demons all knew that picking on a large group of humans could very well lead to a mob bearing torches and pitchforks burning down your lair. These humans, they looked like they would have more than torches and pitchforks. Better just to make nice with them and share the drinks.

So for now, they all concentrated on the main attraction of the bar, Karaoke. On the stage at the moment was a three-foot-tall green demon, that looked like a combination of Kermit the Frog and Yoda. Of course, the song he was singing was 'It's not easy being green'.

{ Oh yeah, this night is going definitely down as one of my strangest nights ever! } Xander thought in amazement as the demon finished up the song, to the hooting and hollering of the audience.

The small demon just bowed, and came off the stage. He made a beeline to the main bar where a taller demon, also green but with red horns, was waiting. They started talking, and the smaller demon seemed to get excited.

{ I guess he's getting good news. } Xander and the others had been told by the other patrons that the demon Host of the bar was anagogic, and could read your destiny just by listening to you sing.

But the funny thing was that Xander had already known all that beforehand, once he'd figured out who the demon was.

Harris remembered Future Willow describing her visits to Los Angeles, and some of the people/beings she had met. One of the creatures she had mentioned was the demon called Lorne...

And even though Xander had never personally met him in that other world, the former Sunnydalian had recognized Angel's friend from the description Willow had provided him with. The redhead had also described his power, gift or skill - Xander wasn't quite sure how to describe it. { Still, learning your destiny through Karaoke? How weird can all the mystical stuff in this world really get? }

A few of the Siberians had sung for Lorne, and had their destinies read. Red had been the first to do so, urged on by the waitress. He in turn had talked some others into doing it too. Although no one was willing to share details, each man had seemed intrigued by what he had been told...

They in turn had urged their comrades to do the same. Some of them seemed receptive to it; and the book with a listing of the songs available had been passed around the table several times. But others, including Xander and Cleburne, were not on board with the idea of humming a few bars.

Harris in particular, because he didn't want Lorne's brain to explode or anything - given his...unusual situation. One of the commandos made his way to the stage. He staggered a little bit as he went up, holding a shot glass in his left hand while he grabbed the microphone with his right. "Hey, everybody!" he shouted out.

The crowd yelled back at him. "You ready to rock?" he then screamed. The crowd roared back its readiness. So the agent started to sing Rick Springfield's song, 'Jesse's Girl'.

Next to Xander, Cleburne muttered, "This is what you get for growing up during the Eighties..." He glanced over at Red. "I knew there was a woman behind his choice. Uh, she is a woman, isn't she?"

"I think so. She certainly looks like one, anyway," Xander answered. He looked around, and leaned towards the agent that had 'found' him in San Francisco last year. "Hey, where are the others? I'm seeing several of the troops missing in action here."

Cleburne took a swig out of the beer bottle he was holding. "Some of 'em had to do cleanup detail. Others opted out. Had girlfriends in town they wanted to spend time with, or had religious objections to drinking. Remember, Mormons won't drink alcohol or smoke-"

"Again with the Mormons! Hey, I wanna know why they keep popping up around me. And don't gimme that crap about security breaches! No way missionaries are able to just walk up to my door, without you turning a blind eye..."

Cleburne was saved from answering when Graham Miller reached over, and tapped him on the shoulder. He pointed at the doorway; a blonde woman had appeared with a look of anger on her face, as she stared at the demons. Lockley's gaze then settled on the commandos, and she headed towards the table.

Graham said ominously, "She was one of the LAPD's assets at the scene this morning. She's lookin' mad, and she's headed your way."

"Oh well, better handle this then..." Cleburne said lazily, as he got to his feet and moved to intercept her. He turned back towards Graham and the others and mentioned as if in passing, "Why don't you guys pick out a song for Hall to sing?"

The Siberians at the table grabbed the song listing, and started flipping through it with glee. { That should slow the kid down about the Mormons. Besides, newbies need to get razzed. It's tradition, } Cleburne thought with a smile.

Xander glared at his former captor, as he headed towards the blonde detective. { Do you have any idea what you've just done? Oh, I'm *so* going to get you for this... }

**UC Sunnydale, Sunnydale, California. The same time**

Tara Maclay was getting worried.

Ever since that business with the unicorn had happened, she had noticed...changes, in both Buffy and Willow. Changes that took place, whenever the subject of Xander Harris was brought up.

The blonde Wicca now had the definite feeling that there was something she didn't know, about the deceased gentleman in question. Before, whenever the guy's name had been mentioned, the conversation had usually revolved around how he had been able to cheer everyone up whenever they had needed it; or how he'd often gone to get snacks, during their late-night research sessions at the high school library.

Tara had gotten the impression from her friends of a man who was, basically, a not-too-bright class clown; someone who should have never gotten involved with fighting the supernatural in the first place, as he had no powers of his own. And that he had paid for his folly with his life, during the high school graduation ceremony.

But something about that just didn't feel right now.

Why would Buffy get an almost-hidden momentary look of semi-anger, when the concept of Xander fighting vampires alongside her was brought up? Why did Willow look away, whenever the subject of the high school senior year was mentioned?

Tara wanted to delve more deeply into the subject, as she knew Willow was still hurting about his loss - but the witch understood her two friends wouldn't or couldn't answer more detailed questions. There was no point talking to Anya about it, she hadn't been there then; ditto Joyce, as it was common knowledge that the middle-aged woman was kept out of the loop on almost everything, given her tendency to almost worry herself to death that the teenagers would get themselves killed...

And Tara's history with the men of her family left her unable to approach Giles in any way, shape or form. So, that left only one option.

Jonathan Levinson opened his Porter Hall dormitory door, after she knocked. "Hi. Uh, Miss Maclay?"

"It's, it's Tara," the blonde lesbian stammered, very uncomfortable. "Can, can I come in?"

"Sure," Jonathan shrugged. "My roommate's out. Probably getting laid again, at his girlfriend's place..."

Tara blushed deeply, as she went inside and Jonathan closed the door. The geek, who in another world would never even have entered college, then offered the witch some refreshments. "Can I get you something? I think we've only got juice at the moment, but if you want me to conjure something up-"

"NO!" Tara said sharply, forgetting to be insecure for once. "Look - magic shouldn't be abused like that, Jonathan. Start off down that road again, and there's no telling where you'll end up! Didn't your teacher ever warn you about the consequences of magic abuse or addiction?"

Mr. Levinson looked embarrassed. "Uh, I never had a teacher. Well, not unless you count that kid in rehab, who taught me that spell a few months ago..."

Tara blushed, her inner demons catching up to her again. "Oh. S-s-sorry."

"No big deal," the short nerd shrugged. "So, uh, to what do I owe the pleasure of this little visit?" He suddenly looked nervous. "Buffy's not after me again, is she? Because if she is, I swear I didn't do it, whatever she-"

"No, I - neither Buffy or Willow know I'm here," Tara said hastily. "I, I, uh, I wanted to ask you some questions. A-about Xander Harris."

Jonathan was confused. "Why ask me? He was their best friend-"

The woman who secretly believed she was part-demon, thanks to the bullshit story of her male relatives, hesitated. "Please. Just humor me here. Tell me what you know about him."

The amateur warlock looked thoughtful. "Okay. On one condition."

"What's that?"

"You become my magic teacher," Mr. Levinson looked very bashful in asking.

Tara was flabbergasted. "What? Jonathan, I-I-I don't know. There, there must be many more suitable people..."

"Not for someone like me," Jonathan said simply, as he turned to face her. "Look, I realize we barely even know each other, but I get the feeling that I can trust you. Maybe even trust you with my life, in time. Because from what I've seen, you're not judgmental; you accept people for who they are, and don't make fun of them. And I can tell you're a good person, that doesn't hold any grudges over what I did back then."

The Wicca blushed. "Oh. Wow. Uh, ah, I don't know what to say..."

The guy nodded. "Not unusual, where I'm concerned - people usually don't. Tara, the truth is I see more than anybody realizes, because nobody's ever paying attention to me. In high school, nobody noticed me except to make fun of me. But still, I learned a lot about what was happening in town, especially with Buffy and her little gang. Including that incident on the first day of senior year, when Xander told Buffy, Willow and Cordelia Chase to basically go to hell..."

That was news to Tara, and making a snap decision the soon-to-be 20-year-old blonde girl made her choice. The femme knew that most likely she would cop some flak from her girlfriend and the Slayer over this, but Miss Maclay also figured it was her responsibility now to make sure Jonathan stayed on the straight and narrow, with regard to magic.

And so she said, "Okay - you got a deal, Jonathan. N-now tell me about the late Mr. Harris, as you knew him."

Jonathan settled down onto his bed. "I first met Xander in kindergarten during 1986, that first day when Willow broke the yellow crayon and cried..."

**Fifteen minutes later**

Tara's mind was reeling in shock. As she suddenly realized that she hadn't known who Xander Harris was, AT ALL.

Jonathan's story had included some things the young woman found it incredible to believe. He'd saved all his friends' lives more than once, ever since he was 16 years old? Then his friends had left him to die outside the Bronze, after a vampire had attacked him? And as far as Jonathan knew, they'd never even apologized for that?

True, she'd known that Harris had ended up in a hell dimension, but this was the first she'd ever even *heard* of Willow's involvement - from something Jonathan had inadvertently eavesdropped upon, later that November. And that thing about lying to Buffy...well, that certainly explained the look the Slayer sometimes got, when Xander's name was mentioned.

But still... "Are you sure you're not making any of this up?" Tara had a queasy look on her face.

Jonathan shrugged. "Absolutely," he said at once. "Look, Xander and I were never what you could call close friends, but we did talk a bit during senior year - before he disappeared. And one time, I bumped into him not long before Graduation-" the guy then shut up.

"What happened?" Tara asked gently, trying to get him to trust her.

She obviously did something right, because the young man looked up to her and said, "It was the weirdest thing. Xander was all dressed up in black, and he and Buffy's boyfriend at the time - this guy Angel? They were carrying what appeared to be some kinda body bag that night. Anyway, he took one look at me - and Xander almost seemed to have a brain seizure! Then he muttered what sounded like, 'Don't ever turn your back on that Andrew Wells asshole', before Angel dragged them both outta there."

Tara absently noted this down for further investigation one day, as she tried to figure out how she would confront her fellow Scooby members with her newfound knowledge. { They need to face up to what happened. They'll never have the chance to really apologize to Xander, granted, but they can at least acknowledge how wrong their actions that night were. }

Then the blonde rearranged her priorities, "Okay, th-thanks for all the info. Now, now, when do you want to meet for us to begin the magic training? I'm free most Tuesday nights-"

"Cool, so am I."

"Okay, then. Meet you at my dorm room at 8 o'clock?"

Jonathan shook his head. "I'd feel safer if it was here. As I don't want Willow or Buffy accidentally walking in on us or anything." Tara nodded in acquiescence. "And by the way, I was kinda hoping you knew something about animal transmogrification? See, there's a funny story about this witch called Amy Madison..."

**Caritas Karaoke bar, Los Angeles, California. Twenty minutes earlier**

Xander tried to figure out a way to avoid singing. "Come on, guys, you really don't want to hear me sing! I thought we came here to blow off some steam. Not to unleash a hideous-sounding thing, on the poor unsuspecting public!"

The other agents just looked up at him and grinned, and went right back to flipping through the song list. "How about 'Like a Virgin'?" one of the men named Willis suggested.

"Noooooo way!" Xander said in horror, as he heard Cleburne chuckling away in the distance. { Damn it, Cleburne... }

The lead agent finally walked up to the approaching Detective Lockley. "Officer, come to join us for a drink?"

Kate glared at the agent-in-charge. "No, I wanna know what the hell you're doing in my city!" She then glanced around at the patrons of the bar. "And what in God's name is this place? Where did all these freaks come from?" the female cop demanded, with her voice rising. Several of demons heard her, and threw dark glances her way - that she easily ignored.

Cleburne took her by the arm, which Kate immediately shook off - her eyes blazing. The man just shrugged, and motioned her over to an empty table close to the bar. Joshua then held a chair out for her, as Kate sat down and he sat down across from her.

"Detective, and I assume it's detective, language like that starts bar fights. Now, I have no worries about my people handling themselves in a bar fight here. You, on the other hand, I have serious reservations about."

"I can handle myself," Lockley snapped back.

"With your regular scumbags of LA, I got me no doubts about that. But if you haven't noticed, these are *not* your regular coked-up homeboys in here. Some of 'em are bulletproof; some aren't. There's a whole world you don't know about-"

"You can shove the patronizing sermon up your ass, mister! Because I know perfectly well what's out there. I've dealt with my share of creepy things! My father-" Kate snarled out, before she stopped herself. She wasn't going to lose control. { Not in front of them, I have to show them I can handle it. 'Cause I can. }

Cleburne stayed silent, taking a drink out of his beer and emptying the bottle. He then motioned to someone in the distance for another one.

The demon that owned the club came over. "Well, if it isn't two first-timers sitting here quietly, and givin' off vibes that say, 'I'm just about ready to explode'! So. What can I do for you two sweetcakes?" Lorne asked with a smile.

Cleburne glared at the guy; he wasn't used to terms of endearment like that coming from a demon. "Another beer." He motioned to Kate sitting across the table. "And whatever the lady wants."

She shook her head. "Just water. And I'll know if you put anything else besides that in it!" Kate glared, not trusting the Host one inch.

Lorne nodded and started off to get the drinks, but stopped when the secret agent spoke again. "Hey, mister. That waitress, she all right? Do I need to worry about Red over there?" Cleburne motioned to where Red and the demon waitress were giggling at each other again.

Lorne followed his look, and laughed. "Oh, honeybun, don't worry at all! Ametila is just the best. Your friend is in the best of all possible hands, and from what I saw will have the most incredible night of his life tonight..." the Deathwok clan demon reassured him, as he hustled off to get the drinks.

Cleburne turned back to the now-sullen Kate Lockley. "Okay, detective, you're here, I'm here. What's on your mind?"

"What's going on?"

"Now *that's* a loaded question! A cynic or a demon would say we're completely screwing up the planet, and that coming down from the trees was a pretty lousy move on our part, way back when. But since I'm pretty sure that's not what you meant, suffice it to say Hamlet was absolutely right in that statement of his to Horatio."

The blonde detective looked at the man sitting across from her in incredulity. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy," the male agent said, quoting perfectly from the Bard of Avon's play.

"Well, not in my town! Look, right now I've got a bunch of middle-aged or elderly basket cases in the hospital, who are supposed to be missing teenagers. You mind telling me how the hell I can explain that, to the parents that I'm *bound* to hear from? Plus, my on-site officers tell me that these cult leaders, well...they weren't human. Which isn't the shocker it woulda been last year, granted, but - you guys, you went into the place looking all freshly-shaved, and came out a few minutes later with several days' worth of beard growth. Now what gives?"

Lorne came up and delivered their drinks. He then hurried back to the main bar, as the commando who sang 'Jesse's Girl' was coming up for his reading. Back at the table where the STW operatives were, several loud voices could be heard - offering suggestions for Xander's song.

Lockley took a drink of her water, ignoring everything but the man before her. "Look, mac. I know something weird is going on. Something beyond what even I'm used to, from my...acquaintances with regard to this sorta thing."

Cleburne raised an eyebrow at that, and made a mental note to find out about the acquaintances she had mentioned. But the detective continued on, "And, bottom line; if I get involved in something, I don't like being kept out of the loop. That kind of thing gets me and my fellow officers dead! Whatever it is that's going on in my city, the LAPD can handle it-"

"No they can't."

Kate felt a flash of anger. "What!?"

Cleburne held up his hands in a gesture of peace. "I'm not being insulting, or patronizing. But there are some..." He searched for the right word, "villains out there, that are just beyond the scope of the LAPD's concerns. Counterfeiters, the Secret Service handles them. Espionage? That's what the CIA's for. Kidnapping? FBI's got that covered. Same thing here. The things that go bump in the night? Well, we're the ones that go bump right back."

"Hey, you stole that from a comic book!" Xander said, as he came up to the table. He then pulled up a chair, and looked at Cleburne. "Don't ask. Basically, I'm hiding out over here; the others are getting just a little *too* enthusiastic for my liking, in finding me a song to sing."

"Kid, I'm working here if you haven't noticed."

"Yeah, sure, you're working about as much as Red is!" Xander pointed over at the agent in question, who was now whispering in the waitress' ear; and she was laughing helplessly in response.

Both Cleburne and Lockley blushed a little bit, in response to Xander's comment. The former slave then turned to the detective, "How are the kids doing?"

"Kids?"

"The people we sent to the hospital from today. It has to be rough on them - I know."

Kate looked questioningly at him. "I was in their shoes once. Used to be one of them, when I was a teenager," Xander replied in answer to the look.

"Can you tell me what happened, then?" Kate quickly asked politely, sensing an opportunity.

Before Xander could answer, the secret agent raised his hand. "Before we get into that, what do you know about the underworld in LA? And I mean the *real* underworld," he asked the detective.

"I know enough. I've met my share of the vampires and other uglies out there. Lost people to them, also. I know some fairy tales aren't fairy tales, and then some."

The agent nodded. { Guess she can keep a secret. And maybe one day eventually when she gets fed up with all the lies, we can even recruit her? } "Tell her about what was at the shelter. But *only* the shelter," Cleburne cautioned Xander.

Nodding, Harris gave the blonde a bare-bones version of his tenure in the hell dimension, and what he had learned of the demons' operation. He also explained the fact that time passed very differently in demon dimensions, so that the ex-slaves in the hospital had only been off the streets of LA for less than a day - as far as anyone in the city would be concerned.

When he was done, Kate leaned back with a look of astonishment on her face. "Okay, one last thing. How long has all this been going on?!"

Cleburne answered her. "That we know for sure, ever since 1998. Probably been a lot longer than that, though." The man looked crestfallen for a second. "Guess a lot of teenagers never got to wise up and go home, because of those bastards."

"So, what's going to happen to all of those kids?" Kate asked neutrally.

"We'll have our experts - shrinks with the experience of handling people who've gone through an ordeal like that - brought in. Sadly, there are lots of humans who've done crap like that to other humans, so we know how to start dealing with the aftereffects. Odds are we'll find some way for them to live out a comfortable life somewhere, and if possible reintroduce them back into society."

"And the evil things?" Kate used her pet phrase for the demons.

"The Innsmouth solution," Cleburne said simply.

"What's that?" Lockley asked.

"Imprisonment and interrogation."

"Why do you call it Innsmouth?" Xander asked.

"Kid, you have your secrets, I have mine," Cleburne said with a smirk.

Kate listened, a little bit confused to the interaction between the former Zeppo and the secret agent. "Wait a minute..." She pointed at Xander. "How did *you* wind up in that hellhole? You don't look like any sort of runaway to me, and your age..."

Cleburne spoke up before Xander could answer. "That's classified. National security, and let's leave it at that." Kate looked unhappy with that answer. The agent continued though, "Look, you don't want to know about that; at least, no more than I want to know the inner workings of the LAPD undercover operations, right?"

Kate still didn't seem happy, but as a professional cop she did seem accepting of that answer. She leaned back and folded her arms. "Okay, what now?"

The two men at the table exchanged a glance. Cleburne was the first to speak. "What's your name, anyway?"

"Detective Kate Lockley."

"Well, Detective Kate Lockley, there's a new day coming."

"Celine Dion song," Xander piped up. "Man, don't you have any original catchphrases?"

The agent glared at Xander, and spoke slowly. "Jehovah's witnesses."

Xander raised his hands in mock surrender and stayed quiet. Cleburne turned back to Lockley, "We're all aware here of the fact that there is more to this world, than can be seen in the light of day. And we want to change things so that Mr. and Mrs. Joe Citizen can be safe at night. The problem is, that we still haven't caught up with or understood everything that's out there."

"And..." the policewoman prompted.

"We need an early warning system. Someone to sound the alarm, when things like this get out of hand. To pick up the phone and call us."

"Who you gonna call? Ghost-busters!" Xander joked. That earned him another glare from the older man.

"And..." Kate said again.

"You give us a call sometime?" Cleburne said, taking a long drink from his beer after he asked the question. "If you think the locals can't handle the problem, that is."

At that point, their conversation was interrupted by Graham Miller coming up to the table and dropping an open play list book in front of Xander. "Hey, Alex! We found the perfect song for you to sing..."

Xander looked down to where Miller was pointing, with quite a bit of worry. His eyes widened when he saw the song. "No way in hell, man, I am not singing *that* song!"

Cleburne leaned over to see just what song it was. "Whoa, being a little tough on the kid, aren't you? You're only supposed to razz him a bit, not scar him for life!" He reached over, took the book away from Graham and started flipping through the pages. "Command decision, guys..."

The man soon found what he was looking for, and signaled for Lorne to come over. "This is what Hall will be singing. This song here."

Lorne looked at the selection. "Ah, a classic! Perfectamundo. Just give me a few minutes to set it up, and as soon as that Kailiff demon's done? Your little buddy's on..." The Host then hurried off towards the stage.

Xander folded his arms in front of him. "I am not getting up there and singing Karaoke."

"Look, you're the new kid on the block here, you got to go through the rites of initiation. Everyone does, in my crew."

"I don't see you singing!"

"I'm the old man, I've already paid my dues."

"No way. And there is nothing you can say that will get me up there, and make a complete fool of myself like that!"

Cleburne shrugged. "I'll make sure the Mormon missionaries quit bothering you."

Xander's eyes flew open, as all concern for Lorne temporarily vanished. "Throw in the Jehovah's witnesses never replacing them, and I'm singing!"

Another shrug. "Deal."

**The private office of Lilah Morgan, Wolfram & Hart building, Los Angeles. The same time**

"Sign here please, Mr. Harris," Lilah pointed on the paper where Anthony Harris had to put his signature. "Right next to where your wife signed-"

The brunette attorney sighed, as the man moved in close to her and she got a whiff of the drinks he had consumed before sobering up. There was also the fact that he was a lot closer to her, than was absolutely necessary...

Anthony grasped the pen firmly in his right hand and steadied himself with his left, by leaning on the attractive attorney's elbow. Inwardly, she winced.

The balding man finished signing the papers and straightened himself up, brushing against Lilah as he did. { Oh, the things I do for the Senior Partners. Just wait till I don't need these booze-soaked buffoons anymore...there are plenty of third world dimensions that could use their presence! }

At that moment, Mrs. Harris returned from the ladies room. And Jessica didn't notice, as Mr. Harris instantly scooted away from Lilah. The middle-aged man spoke up, "So, this is everything we need to do to get those bastards who are messing with our son?"

Lilah was almost surprised. This was the first indication she had ever witnessed that Anthony Harris even *cared* about his offspring. "Oh, yes sir. We'll file these first thing in the morning, and get a hearing set up as soon as possible."

"And the money issue you mentioned?" Xander's maternal unit asked.

"Well, I'm sure we can get you a tidy sum from the government, and also from the various media sources - who no doubt will want to know all about what's happened."

"We could be on Oprah. Oh, I'll have to have something done about my hair," Mrs. Harris said, feeling her scalp.

{ There's no point, you stupid sow. Like the Senior Partners will want all this to become public knowledge, once we get your son released into our custody? And I swear, I really look forward to the day you and your lecher husband will just disappear! } Lilah didn't say that out loud, of course; she just kept smiling at the Harris couple, pushing the button to summon her assistant, pressing down with the barest hint of urgency.

"I'm sure you're both tired from the trip upstate. So I'll have the limo take you to your hotel suite, and you two can rest up." { Plus get drunk all over again, no doubt, but then that's neither here nor there anymore - at least as far as I'm concerned. } "Tomorrow, we'll be in touch to let you know what's happening with the case. Until then..." The assistant led the Harrises out of the office.

When he returned in a few minutes, Lilah - by now sitting behind her desk - handed the papers just signed over to him. "Copy these, and send the documents down to Files and Records at once. Then fast-courier the originals to San Francisco for filing, as soon as the clerk of the court's office opens up tomorrow morning."

**Caritas Karaoke bar, Los Angeles, California. A few minutes later**

"Thank you for that riveting performance, Briff. Because hey, that was absolutely Cher-rific - wasn't it, people? Ah, thank you, thank you...all right, guys and dolls. Coming up next for your listening pleasure, is a new guy here on our stage..."

Xander Harris joined Lorne in the spotlight, as the anagogic demon continued, "This is his first solo appearance anywhere, apparently, so be sure to watch - and you can tell your friends you were here, when he made his debut performance!"

Lorne held the microphone up, introducing Xander. "So let's put our hands together, and give a nice warm welcome to Alexander Hall!"

The crowd applauded, as the commandos hooted and hollered. Lorne got off the stage and headed over to his barstool, as Xander reluctantly took center stage. He grabbed hold of the microphone from the stand that the Host had put it on, and with a great deal of trepidation, waited for the music to start. { Man. I hope nothing goes wrong here... }

Cleburne was still at the table with Lockley, but he was keeping a close eye on Lorne. For the guy knew he would have to step in, if anything about Xander's singing or reading got out of hand.

The music started, and Xander tapped his right foot in perfect rhythm to it as he started to sing. He wasn't half-bad, either; after all, he had learned *something* after that business with the musical amulet. Not to mention listening to his ex-girlfriend Cordelia singing, 'The Greatest Love Of All' during sophomore year...

_I see a bad moon rising_

_I see trouble on the way_

_I see earthquakes and lightnin'_

_I see bad times today_

{ So far so good, } Xander thought to himself, as there were no screams of pain from the bar where Lorne was chatting to one of the waitresses.

_Don't go 'round tonight_

_'Cause it's bound to take your life,_

_There's a bad moon on the rise_

Lorne stopped talking to the waitress suddenly; he turned and stared at Xander, locking his suddenly-huge red eyes with the human's as the song went on.

_I hear hurricanes a-blowing,_

_I know the end is coming soon_

_I fear rivers overflowing_

_I hear the voice of rage and ruin_

{ Got that right, } Xander thought to himself vaguely, as he watched Cleburne casually stroll over to the main bar to get another beer. The waitress that Lorne had been talking to, and who by the way was not the one Red had been making time with, stared at her boss - trying to figure out what had him so transfixed about this singer.

_Don't go 'round tonight_

_It's bound to take your life,_

_There's a bad moon on the rise_

Lockley looked around to where Cleburne had gone. { Here I am trying to chew his head off, then he offers me some kind of deal - and now he's wandered off to the bar? Men, } she thought to herself disgustedly.

_Hope you got your things together_

_Hope you are quite prepared to die_

_Looks like we're in for nasty weather_

_One eye is taken for an eye_

Xander's voice faltered a little at that line, as future memories of Caleb maiming him came swarming into his mind. But he quickly recovered, and went on.

And at the bar, Lorne placed a hand to his forehead. He groaned - then yelled, "Ramone! Whatever the strongest thing is that we sell in this place, gimme it right now! No, make it a double!"

The waitress leaned over to see what was wrong, but Lorne waved her off. Cleburne watched all this, ready to step in if necessary. Back at the table, Kate's cop instincts kicked in and she watched the drama at the bar, trying to figure out what was going on.

_Don't go 'round tonight_

_It's bound to take your life,_

_There's a bad moon on the rise_

Ramone quickly served his boss, who just as quickly gulped down the drink; and as Xander continued singing, Lorne fainted, collapsing unconscious. The waitress was about to call for help, but then she saw Cleburne's face; and that quickly cured her of any notions of screaming for assistance.

The crowd then applauded, the commandos standing up and stomping their feet - hollering in joy, as Xander finished the song. The former class clown bowed in appreciation, then placed the microphone back on the stand and quickly walked to the bar - where Lorne was waiting for him with a guarded look on his face, having woken up a few moments ago.

"All right, dimples, just who or what the hell are you?" the lounge demon asked, a thick edge of fear in his voice. For the Host had *never* done a reading like this before.

Xander glared at the STW agent. "I *told* you this was a lousy idea!" Then he turned to Lorne. "Alex Hall is who I am," Xander gave him the alias he was using for the time being.

"No, I didn't mean your name, which my instincts are saying is probably a fake anyway. Because there's a *lot* more to you than just that ID label!" Lorne noticed then that Cleburne was watching them. "Hey, sweetcheeks, I don't know about you, but most men wouldn't leave a cupcake like that alone in a bar like this for too long, or any bar for that matter - don't you think?"

Krevlornswath of the Deathwok clan, as he was known back home, pointed off into the distance - where Lockley was engaged in a staring contest with a nasty-looking demon, two tables over. "Methinks the natives are getting restless..."

Xander waved Cleburne off. "Don't worry about it. Whatever he says or does, I can handle myself."

The secret agent thought about it for a second; then nodding to Xander, he picked up a new beer and glass of water. He then headed back over to the table where the police detective was waiting. { Good luck, kid... }

Xander waited until Cleburne was out of earshot, and then turned back to his companion. "Okay, Lorne, you read my destiny - so give."

The demon eyed him suspiciously. "How did you know my name?"

Xander fidgeted. "This is your place, it's been mentioned often enough tonight..."

"Don't lie to me, pumpkin. Ever! Or you won't get squat of what I just learned. And by the way, just how old are you?"

Xander sighed. "Fine. We've never met before, but you've been described to me by a...friend. I recognized you almost at once from the description. And I'm roughly 23 years old. So, what's my destiny here?"

Lorne sighed too. "Destinies, sugar plum, as in plural. One that was, or rather - would have been. And that one was filled with so much pain and loss, even *I* couldn't hardly believe it!"

Xander stared at him as the demon went on, "Okay, for one thing, I saw you in the future standing over a tombstone with the name Cordelia Chase on it - staring down sadly, with this hideous-looking black eyepatch over your left peeper. And you looked the same age you are right now! She was a friend deceased before her time, I gather. I also saw other friends of yours, lost both in body and soul - a group split up, and traveling the world..."

Nearly all of this was totally unfamiliar to Xander. { Shit. This must have been what was supposed to happen, before the First started meddling with history. But hell, I'm the same age am I now? That would mean - Cordy dies around 2004. Yeesh, does every woman I know hafta go through the wringer like that? }

Lorne continued, "But something I can't explain happened. By the sweet sounds of Aretha, everything changed for you! Superimposed over the image of that graveyard, I saw you with both eyes still intact, dancing at a wedding with some woman, I couldn't get a good look at her - and you were what? About 27, 28 years old? I know it sounds crazy, but it was two outcomes for the same time..."

The demon was confused, unable to understand what he had foreseen. Xander could, at least sort of; but he decided to keep his peace until he'd had a chance to talk with Cleburne and Marcum, not to mention the Wizard, about all this.

The seer went on, "Plus from what I saw - almost everyone you know has ended up in uncharted territory. Because of what happened to you, pilgrim. But listen, Alex-cake; even though the darkness is there still and I can't see the end of it, it *can* be beaten back. I know that much for sure - so don't lose hope, no matter how bad it all ends up looking for you. Ah, yeah, before I forget - you need to do some things..."

Lorne took another quick gulp of his drink. "The Key, you need to make sure that something called the Key ends up where it should be. I saw you with some monks not long from now, and they have to be told to do something about the Key; you have to convince them to send it to where it was...before? Also, no matter how much you want to, you can't bring her back."

Xander looked at him oddly. "Her? Who her? What do you mean, who can't I bring back?"

The Key thing wasn't too hard to figure out. { Dawn, those monks need to create Dawn and send her to Sunnydale. Fine, I get that, in fact was planning to get 'em to do it anyway, but the other part... } The second thing was confusing to Xander, as several names of women he knew that were absent or even dead ran through his head.

"Trust me, you'll know who when the time is right. For now, take care of the Key. And, two other things. Your friends..." Lorne nodded to where the Siberians were doing their best to drink all the alcohol in the bar. "You'll doubt them, question their motives. But don't worry, when you need it - they'll back you up. All the way to the hilt."

The demon paused again. "And this one, please - remember always. Second chances are vital to everyone in this world. Because people are allowed to attempt to achieve redemption, if they're really sincere about it. Even if it takes an eternity, they have the right to try to make amends for whatever they've done-"

"Okay, what the hell are you talking about?" Xander asked, hopelessly confused. { You know, for someone who was supposed to tell me my destiny, this guy is being pretty damn vague about it! }

"Just remember, bucko, going home is a two-way process."

"You should know," Xander shrugged without thinking, remembering Willow's story and having heard enough of the cryptic garbage.

Lorne's eyes narrowed in fear, and his heart started palpitating in his left butt cheek. Which was not surprising, given the horrors he had endured growing up in the demon dimension called Pylea... "What?"

The grinning Mr. Harris quickly whispered in his ear, trying to be as annoyingly vague as Lorne, "Sometimes - the journey is taken, simply because it has to be taken...ya know what I mean?" before walking back to Cleburne and Lockley, ignoring the Host's strident demands for details.

**Local offices of Federal Bureau of Investigation, San Francisco, California. The next morning**

The Special Agent in Charge (SAC) for the FBI field office in San Francisco sipped on a cup of coffee, as he read the morning sports page. Mornings were generally quiet for him. Anything urgent would have been handled the night before, and meetings weren't normally scheduled until early in the afternoon.

But a knock on his partially-opened door drew his attention away from the sports page. "Yep?"

A secretary walked in, carrying a large envelope. "Courier just dropped this off. Since he said it was urgent and I had to sign for it, I figured I should go ahead and bring it up to you right away."

The SAC reached over and took the package, noting that the return address was a law firm in Los Angeles. "Okay Sally, thanks - I'll see what the hubbub is about here..."

The secretary nodded and left the office, as the FBI agent opened the envelope and started to read the contents. { God. I need a vacation... }

After a few minutes, the FBI agent put down his coffee, reached for the intercom and buzzed his assistant. "Sally, I need to know what the LA office was doing yesterday. Also, call the U.S. attorney's office, and tell them I need to talk to the senior AUSAs, right away. This is just plain screwy..."

**The penthouse suite of the Transuding Furies, Los Angeles, California. Later that afternoon**

Cleburne leaned back and stretched his legs, as he waited impatiently on the couch. Gunny was on the other side of the living room from him, sitting patiently like the good soldier he was. And Cleburne was silently thankful that the penthouse was both a large one, and also apparently soundproofed - in the bedroom.

"Got to be one of the more screwier things we've ever done, don't ya think?" Cleburne suddenly said.

"In what way, Colonel?" Gunny responded, addressing the secret agent by his military rank.

"Playing pimp for a trio of witches."

"Uh, are they actually witches? 'Cause I got me the impression they're something else, something...entirely different. And besides, what makes ya think we're pimping Hall out? I thought we brought him here to have some kind of hoodoo done to him, so that the locator mojo won't work on him anymore."

"Well, you saw their faces when we got here, Gunny. Geez, I think I drooled less when I picked up my date for senior prom, and that was Heather Copley - who really believed in finding out just how low-cut a Prom dress could be!" Cleburne chuckled at the memory, when his cell phone ringing interrupted the conversation.

He answered it, "Cleburne here." Joshua then listened for a few seconds. "Yeah, the kid's with us. We're meeting with the local talent right now. Yes, *that* local talent. The kid seemed quite eager to get started with this meeting..."

A pause. "No, not really hung over at all. Guy's smart, he paced himself last night. He knew he had a meeting to attend today. Yeah, our boy was definitely looking forward to it and didn't want to be under the weather or anything...after we're done here? We'll probably head back east. Why?"

The agent listened. "Yeah, we can do that, particularly if they're expecting us. But why?" Cleburne's eyes then became huge. "WHAT? What do you mean, we're being sued? That's not possible. We're the law here!"

Gunny looked at his superior with interest, as the conversation continued.

"Well, I suppose that's true, since we *are* a secret agency and publicity is bad news. Who's suing us...? Oh. *Them*. Yeah, I can see the problem. Okay, you handle it on that end, and I'll keep things quiet on this one. I'll check in when we have everything lined up." Cleburne hung up the phone.

"Trouble?" Gunny asked.

"Yeah, Marcum's trying to get a handle on the problem. Unfortunately, it's not the kind we can just shoot; at least, not without consequences. We better round up a traveling party..."

He dialed a number on the cell phone, and waited for an answer. "Red, it's Cleburne here. We've got a situation we have to deal with. I need for you to meet up with me...okay, I understand that you're tied up with something, but you still need to come on over-"

Cleburne looked confused for a second. "You mean, you're *really* tied up? So how are you talking on the phone then?"

The cell phone was silent for a few seconds. "Oh, it's nice to talk to you again too, Ametila. No, it was our pleasure, because you earned every cent of that tip! Ahhhh, would you mind putting Red back on? Thank you."

Another silence for a few seconds followed. "Red. I swear to God, one day...okay, finish up there, then meet us at the airport. You got an hour..."

Gunny cleared his throat, and nodded towards the closed door when Cleburne looked up.

"Two?"

Gunny shook his head, and Cleburne sighed. "All right, *three* hours at the airport. Be prepared for an overseas trip. What? No, not the tropics. Think desert heat."

TBC...


	8. Chapter 8

**Part Eight**

**U.S. Air Force transport aircraft, 35,000 feet above the North Atlantic Ocean. July, 2000**

Xander felt himself being shaken awake in mid-air. He rubbed his eyes, and tried to wake up.

The guy had more-or-less been asleep the whole time since they had left Los Angeles, barely being conscious when they had transferred planes at Andrews Air Force Base. The last few days had completely drained the young man; what with the attack on the hell dimension, drinking at Caritas, having his destiny read there and his 'appointment' with the Furies the next day.

Xander focused his eyes, and saw that it was Gunny who was shaking him awake. "Wizard's on the phone for you, Hall," he whispered to the former Scooby.

Xander looked around the cabin and saw Cleburne, Red and Graham all asleep. He nodded, "Where can I take the call?"

Gunny gestured to a forward alcove, where the stewards prepared food. Xander nodded again, and made his way forward to where Gunny had indicated. The stewards were nowhere in sight, probably working in the rear of the aircraft. So he picked up the phone, and punched the blinking light. "Hello?"

"Mr. Harris. I hope you're in good spirits," The voice of Dr. Hollins, the 11-year-old super-genius working for Siberian Trip Wire, came across the phone.

"Bit groggy right now, I've had a rough couple of days. Or is it day?" Xander sighed. "This time distortion thing from being in that hell dimension is really confusing."

"I had hypothesized that switching between the various rates of time passage can be disorienting; thank you for the clarification. I had hoped to discuss that with you in person, but unfortunately you had to leave the country at once."

"Yeah, about that. What the hell's going on, anyway? Cleburne was real tight-lipped when I finished up my, uh, *meeting* with the girls. Just said we were taking a field trip overseas for a while. Wouldn't tell me why." Xander glanced back into the cabin where Gunny had retaken his seat, and was reading a magazine. And the former soldier had no doubts that Gunny was also keeping a close eye on him.

"It appears that the law firm Wolfram & Hart has gotten creative in a rather mundane, yet nonetheless effective way. They're suing the U.S. government over custody of you."

That got Xander's attention. "What!? Suing the government? Over *me*? But how the heck-?"

"They've filed a writ of habeas corpus, alleging that we are holding you against your will; and demanding that we produce you in public, at a place of your parents' choosing. I must admit, that I never even once envisioned such an approach to get at you. We had been concentrating almost exclusively against another magical or paranormal attack, after all. Which reminds me, did the Furies make it so that a locator spell will not find you now?"

"Amongst other things, yeah," Xander smiled as he answered that question, and he checked the various love bites the sisters had given him during his settlement of the...contract. "But wait a minute. How can a law firm down in Los Angeles sue the government over me? I've never had any dealings with them, in this world or that other one..."

"I know; however, shortly after your high school *graduation* they managed to arrange it so that your parents procured their services, to sue the school board over the so-called natural gas explosion that 'killed' you. They've convinced your parents to file this action, no doubt telling them there would be punitive monetary damages as a result. And the two of them signed off on the paperwork yesterday."

Harris could not help it; he snorted. "I didn't know that they cared, or even knew I still existed."

"Be that as it may, Wolfram & Hart knows and most likely feels they have enough proof to make things difficult for us. That's why they decided to file their case in front of a judge that is...well, notorious for believing in conspiracy theories. He's liable to rule in way that would be problematic for the organization."

Xander had a strange look on his face. "Huh. I see. Well, so, what now? I'm not going to wind up on the front page of the _National Enquirer_ after all, am I?"

Hollins responded at once, "That is most unlikely; it's in their best interests to keep everything that they know secret, after all. There's been no public notice of the action, and your name remains sealed. As to what's next, well, it would be best if you weren't in the country for at least the next week or so, while STW's legal staff deals with this. Hence, your field trip."

"A week? But Irving, I need to tell you about a reading this demon seer called Lorne did on me, back in LA. Several things came up, that you'll probably want to know about. Want me to fill you in on that now?"

"Not over this telephone line; hold off on that till you get to Ramstein. Their communication facilities are more secure than those of a moving aircraft, and we'll talk then. Also, there's a package waiting for you there."

Xander stared at the phone for a moment. "What kind of package?"

The Wizard said smoothly, "Suffice it to say, it struck me that your education should not suffer due to your situation. So I've made arrangements for one Alexander Hall to take some correspondence courses, that I can oversee."

"What is this, the University of Wizard?"

"Actually, they're through the University of Chicago, as I actually have faculty privileges there."

Harris looked ill. "Amazing. So in addition to dealing with the bad guys and saving the world, I also now have to worry about maintaining a decent GPA?"

Irving Hollins finished up with a smile, "You do indeed, Mr. Harris. Don't worry though, I tend to grade on the curve. We'll talk more when you land."

**Secure videoconferencing center, Ramstein U.S. Air Force Base, Wiesbaden, Germany. Several hours later**

The monitor blinked for a second, and then swiftly came to life. A picture of an office was shown, with Esther Marcum and Irving Hollins looking into the camera. Cleburne leaned over to make sure the camera on the Ramstein end was working, as Xander looked on.

They had arrived at Ramstein AFB an hour earlier. The massive base was the point from which most American military personnel were transported, when they were on their way to Europe, Africa or the Middle East. As such, the bustle and activity made it easy for STW to go about their activities unnoticed. Gunny, Red and Graham had gone off to make the arrangements for the next as-of-now-unknown leg of their journey.

"Can you see us?" Cleburne asked.

"Yes, we can see both of you fine. Was the flight pleasant?" Esther asked.

"Well, being cooped up on an air transport does allow you to get caught up on your sleep," Cleburne replied. "What's the good word back home?"

"The FBI is all confused over being sued because of someone who's dead. After all, they have no knowledge of a Xander Harris helping out in the cult raid."

Xander piped up, "Speaking of that, how are those ex-slaves doing?"

"Terrified. Confused. Withdrawn. You can imagine." That was Hollins.

"I can, actually, remember? I lived it."

Hollins shifted uncomfortably at the reminder of Xander's past. "Yes, quite. Anyway, we're transferring them to a facility we have in Idaho. It's a clinic, which specializes in helping people deal with the aftermath of prolonged, traumatic events. We're helping them as best we can."

"Anyway, what's happening with the lawsuit?" Cleburne steered the conversation back to the topic that had made it necessary for Xander to spend some time overseas.

"Well, we have the lawyers looking at it," Esther responded. "It looks like what happened is that some photographer was taking a bunch of photos outside the shelter, during the raid. A few of them seemed to have had Mr. Harris in the picture, so to speak."

"Oh, cripes, I thought we'd already herded all of the media out of the line of sight of us," Cleburne growled.

"From what I understand, the photographer was hiding on a roof across the street."

"Do I have to worry about being on the front page of the papers now?" Xander asked with worry in his voice.

"No, apparently the photographer offered the negatives to Wolfram & Hart first. They pay for information about anything with occult overtones, including cults. When the photos were shown to them, the lawyer on the spot immediately recognized their significance. Wolfram & Hart wanted to be an exclusive customer, and took steps to make sure of it."

"Oh," Xander said quietly. { In other words, he's dead. Those bastards killed that guy, just to keep my secret all to themselves. People are dying nowadays because of me... }

Esther continued on, "The photos gave them enough proof to proceed with legal action. And so, all of this puts us into a bind. The FBI will deny it, of course, but just the denial itself starts people asking questions. And in this business when people know to start asking questions, that's almost as bad as the secret becoming public."

"Can you squash it like a bug, before it gets out of hand?" That was Cleburne.

"Maybe, it's not yet become public knowledge. After all, Wolfram & Hart doesn't want it to become public either. That would lead to too many questions afterwards, that they won't want to answer."

"Can it be contained?"

"We think so. We've also got the lawyers working on how to make it disappear. Unfortunately, the case is before a judge who is hostile to the government, a real radical firebrand. I suspect he'll allow the bad guys a lot more breaks than a more impartial judge would."

"God help us from judges with agendas," Cleburne muttered under his breath.

Xander half-heard him. "So where does that leave me?"

"Getting some downtime overseas. Look at it as an opportunity to broaden your horizons," Esther answered him.

"Yeah, kid, you've never been overseas. I mean hell, you thought Canada was a great place to hide. But c'mon, the Mounties are up there and they always get their man," Cleburne chided Xander.

"Also, this gives you a chance to start your studies. Joshua, be sure he gets started on that," Hollins added.

"Yes, Mr. Wizard. And the other package I requested?"

"It should be with the materials that Gunny and the others are picking up for Xander," Hollins replied.

Xander interrupted, "Hey, what about the destiny reading thing I had in Los Angeles? That guy Lorne told me I had to do some specific things. We need to figure out what to do about that."

"You are indeed correct. Tell us then, please, what the reading revealed to you."

In response to Hollins' request, Xander described to the listening government operatives what Lorne had told him. He covered everything, including both the cryptic remark about 'not bringing her back' and the stuff about the Key.

"Key? What do you know about this key?" Cleburne asked at once.

"Well..." Xander said with hesitation. "It's something from the future history."

"Do tell, Mr. Harris," Esther prompted him from thousands of miles away.

Xander again hesitated. { They'll freak over Dawn, says my money. A mystical energy being in human form? Still, these days I can't just wander off to find these monks without their help... }

The others were all looking at Xander, waiting for whatever nugget of information he was about to impart to them. He stared back at the group and said, "Okay, look, I want your agreement that you guys won't go off half-cocked about this. Consider it one of the non-negotiable terms of my agreement with you."

The others hesitated for a second. Cleburne answered first, "Okay, kid. We'll look before we leap, you got my word on it. So give us the sit-rep here."

Xander took a deep breath. "It's about Dawn, Buffy's sister."

All of the others looked confused. "Sister? But Ms. Summers is an only child. Is Joyce Summers going to have another daughter?" Esther asked.

"No. Or, rather - not exactly. And they're not going to adopt either. But back in the first go-around, in the fall of the year 2000 Buffy ended up having a sister in high school. A brunette which grew up with Buffy and everyone in Sunnydale, ever since she was 10 years old."

That just confused the others even more. So Xander began to explain the story of Dawn, the hellgoddess Glory, the Order of Dagon and the events of Buffy's second year of college. Once he was finished, the others all had various looks of shock on their faces.

"Holy shit," Cleburne muttered under his breath.

"This is very...interesting. We'll probably want to make sure any recordings of this conversation are secured, or better yet destroyed..." Hollins looked lost in thought.

"I'll take care of it," Esther volunteered.

Hollins suddenly focused and spoke up, "So, from the vision this Lorne person had; he said that you *had* to make sure that the Key was given human form as Ms. Summers's sister?"

Xander nodded. "You bet your 11-year-old kiester he did. He said I had to send Dawn to back where she was before, even though the guy didn't understand what that meant - or hell, even most of what he was saying. Just as well. So, I have to convince the monks to play ball here."

"Are you sure? I mean, is it wise to mess with reality that much?" Esther asked softly.

Hollins answered that one, "It would seem to be the most prudent course at first glance, given all the variables we're dealing with; after all, it happened in the first version of history. We may need to make sure it happens again, to ensure that the timeline doesn't fall apart."

Xander nodded. "Not to mention, I remember the future with her in it. I don't want to risk my head going all boom-boom, if after August Dawnie spends the rest of her eternity as some mystical ball of energy! Plus, if it was all dangerous or anything, I don't think the Powers That Be would even be letting us have this conversation..."

"Kid, these Powers That Be, any reason to think they're playing us? Or steering you wrong?" Cleburne asked.

"No. I mean they often seem pretty arrogant, but never intentionally evil. That guy Doyle was proof of that! And besides, the First Evil pretty much has that side of the equation covered..."

"Any chance this Lorne could be playing a game with us?" the secret agent inquired.

"I don't think so. From what I remember, everyone who knew him...before...seemed to trust him. And that reminds me - we also need to do something about Cordelia, given she was part of my reading. Well, I suppose we do, anyway," was Xander's noncommittal reply.

Hollins got everyone's attention again. "These monks, the Order of Dagon?" Xander nodded at the question, as the super-genius continued on, "Do you know where they are, or any other information about them?"

Xander shook his head. "All I know is they're somewhere in Europe, I think the eastern or central part. Oh, I remember somebody mentioning Prague. And that's in Europe, isn't it?"

"Yes it is," Hollins said as he glanced at Cleburne.

Cleburne shrugged his shoulders, knowing what the boy genius was thinking. "Okay, okay, I'll make sure he does the homework you send."

"Good, you do that," Hollins said, deep in thought. He then turned his attention back to Xander. "So you can't do anything about this Key..." The boy quickly corrected himself at Xander's look. "Dawn Summers, until you find those monks?"

"Yep, I'll have to go looking for them."

Irving thought for a second, and then reached a decision. "Very well, I'll spend the next week or so researching their order, finding out what I can about them and where they are. We can spend the intervening time figuring out our next step."

Xander raised his hand. "Hold on. You mean I get to spend a week on an airbase in Germany, doing homework while you people have a *research party*? No frickin' way. I am not staying cooped up here, while you guys get your ducks lined up in a row back home!"

Esther peered into the camera. "Not to worry, Mr. Harris, we have someplace nice for you to spend your time away from home. The Israelis have asked for our assistance with a problem that seems to be right up your alley..."

**UC Sunnydale, Sunnydale, California. The same time**

Tara Maclay was sitting on her bed, hugging her knees to her chin and gazing at nothing in particular, when Willow and Buffy came into her dorm room. The blonde Wicca obviously had something on her mind, and the two arrivals could tell this at once.

"Tara, sweetie? What's wrong?" Willow asked in concern.

The witch looked up, and stared at them. And both Sunnydale High graduates stepped back, at the expression on her face. "What is it?" Buffy demanded at once.

"Why didn't you tell me the truth?" Tara asked simply, staring straight at her.

The Chosen One was confused. "About what?"

"Xander Harris."

Willow and Buffy stared at one another. The redhead started to ask, "Tara, what do you mean? Who have you been talking to-"

Her lover interrupted her, though. "I just - I, I need to know something. D-did you two and that Cordelia Chase girl have *any* suspicion about what was going to happen to him, after what happened that night?"

Willow felt her guts freeze in horror, as one of her worst nightmares came to life. { She knows. Oh Goddess, she knows what I did then, and now she's gonna leave me because of it... } "NO! No, Tara, I swear, when we left Xander on that sidewalk we had no *idea*-"

"Who told you about all this?" Buffy wanted to know, as she interrupted her friend. "Was it Giles? Because he wasn't there, and I-"

Tara shook her head. "It wasn't him. It was, uh, Jonathan."

Buffy's eyes went wide. "What?! Oh, that's it! I'm gonna kick his worthless ass all the way into next week-"

"NO!" Tara shouted, surprising herself as well as the two others. "What's the matter with you? I asked politely, and he-he told me what he knew. The, the things you guys didn't want to talk about. So when something happens that you don't like, y-your first and only solution is just to hit somebody? Th-that's assault and battery, and you c-could end up in jail from that sorta thing!"

Willow and Buffy looked startled, as the incredibly shy blonde they knew chastised the Slayer like that. "Look, Tara-" the Champion started to say.

"Did it happen like Jonathan said? D-did Xander lie to you about the soul curse?" the young woman interrupted.

"Well, yeah. And Lord knows I couldn't believe it, that jealous idiot would actually *do* that to me!" Buffy shouted, as long-buried emotions and memories came to the surface, her first instinct being to attack rather than examine her own actions.

Tara stared at the Chosen One. "Is-is that why he did it? He was jealous of this Angel person?"

"What else could it have been?" the daughter of Hank and Joyce Summers demanded. "He, he hated and bad-mouthed Angel right from day one, even though the guy had done nothing to deserve it! And when we had the chance to get the real Angel back, Xander did everything he could to prevent it, and then some! Y'know, and I can't believe I'm saying this, but thank God that crazy 'ho Drusilla decided to attack Angelus when she did..."

"What if she hadn't?" Miss Maclay asked in that neutral tone. "And if you'd had to fight him and the other vampires all-out, a-and that portal to Hell had been activated? Would you have gone for the kill, o-or waited for the curse to kick in?"

Buffy shook her head. "It didn't happen that way-"

"Th-that's not what I asked. What if it had?"

The Slayer said nothing.

The other blonde's eyes went wide. "So, so, would you have been willing to gamble the fate of the world, a-against getting your lover back? W-would you have been willing to risk the lives of six billion people? R-risk *my* life?"

Her sensibilities offended, Buffy just said angrily, "This is ridiculous! I can't believe we're actually discussing this topic-"

Tara held up a conciliatory hand, shutting her up. "Buffy, y-you're my friend. And I believe you did nothing but what you thought was right, because I trust you with my life. I'm a part of your world now. And as part of that I-I'm just trying to understand exactly what happened that evening..."

The Slayer sighed. "Fine. Look, Tara, I'm not proud of what I did in hindsight. I was angry, and I recklessly put a human life in danger - I understand that. I know I screwed up. And I'm also willing to accept all the blame that goes with my mistake. But I didn't try to get him dead and thanks to Angel, he survived with nothing except some flesh wounds. So bottom line, Xander had no right to stay so pissed that way over the next six months..." Buffy then noticed Tara's expression. "What?"

The woman who'd lost her mother over two years ago shook her head. "Buffy, according to Jonathan - he wasn't just pissed. Rightly or wrongly, Xander Harris hated you."

Buffy was stunned silent by that revelation. Willow had been listening to the conversation in exponentially-growing horror and squeaked, "What?"

Buffy managed to find her voice. "How can Jonathan say that? He hardly even knew Xander-"

"No; h-he talked quite a bit with him, the first part of your senior year. And apparently, the guy didn't sit around stewing over what you...ah, what happened. From what I hear, he made new friends, a-and started a new life for himself outside of the slaying."

"Yeah, with Faith," Willow barely whispered.

Tara stared at her lover. "Amongst others. But uh, from what he said, a-and assuming Jonathan wasn't lying about his conversations with Xander - which I don't think he was - Xander ended up hating all three of you..."

Miss Rosenberg shook her head in denial. "No! No, he wouldn't have, he couldn't have-"

"Um, why not?"

Willow looked helplessly at Buffy. "Because he, he was Xander! He was always there for me. He saved my life, he saved Buffy's life too, he even saved Cordelia from getting burned alive that one time-"

Tara shook her head. "Willow, I love you. P-please don't ever doubt that. But if you guys had done s-something like that to *me*...I honestly don't know how I'd feel anymore, either."

This whole thing had unnerved the Slayer more than a little. { Xander hated me? And Willow? And Cordelia? } But she was a survivor, and so resolutely thought, { Even if it's true - there's nothing I can do about it anymore. I'm sorry, Xander, but you're gone now. And Willow and I need to move on... }

So Buffy said dismissively, "Well, this is all academic anyway. Xander's dead, Spike and Drusilla hit the road and even Angel left ages ago. I say what's done is done, and we should just leave the past to rest behind us - where it belongs."

Willow was still upset, but seemed willing to get on board with that. However Tara just gazed at her beloved's best friend silently, suddenly having the strangest feeling that one day...her words were going to rise up, and savagely bite her on the ass.

So she started to say, "Buffy, the, the past defines us. I-it's who we were, so it's a part of who we are. You need to face up to it-"

"Whatever. Look, all I know is that I can't do anything about it; so I'm not going to reopen old wounds for no good purpose, okay?" With that, she stomped out of the dorm room.

Willow looked at Tara. "Sweetie? I, I just can't talk about this right now..." She wiped at her eyes. "Maybe someday, yeah, but not now. It just - it still hurts too much." And with that, Willow also left the dorm room, as her girlfriend stared sadly.

**United States District Court for the Northern District of California Federal Courthouse, San Francisco, California. The next morning**

"Your Honor, as these photographs clearly show, as recently as two days ago Alexander Harris was alive and in the custody of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. The court's experts are welcome to examine their authenticity, and these photos are directly connected to the raid by the FBI on a homeless shelter-" Lilah Morgan was making her statement in the courtroom, which was empty except for the attorneys and the Harris couple.

Judge Willard Younts interrupted Lilah's speech, as he directed a question to the Federal prosecutor. "Mr. Bowden, I would hope that with the current youth problem in America today, the Federal government would have better things to do than harass a shelter trying to help runaways. Care to explain the FBI's actions?"

Lilah smiled to herself. The choice of Judge Younts to preside over this case had been a masterstroke. She could come in here and allege that the government was killing babies to sell their organs overseas for an illegal profit, and he would demand that the Feds prove otherwise...

"Your Honor, it's my understanding that the raid was undertaken with investigation into a cult, pursuant to a court order issued by the U.S. District Court sitting in Los Angeles - which has jurisdiction over where the raid happened. If you'd care to examine the paperwork, I think you'll find it's all in order..."

Judge Younts didn't look happy about that, but then again he really couldn't complain - since he didn't have jurisdiction over Los Angeles. Bowden continued, "As a matter of fact, Your Honor, the United States would move to dismiss this case - on the grounds that this court has no jurisdiction over events happening in the Southern District of California. The plaintiffs in this matter have not made the connection to this court necessary to establish venue."

Lilah easily countered that, after all - she had expected that argument to be made. Lindsey MacDonald, who was sitting next to her at the counsel table, slid a paper over to her with his plastic right hand.

The woman then said, "Your Honor. Our investigation has shown that Mr. Harris was initially captured and illegally detained by the agents of the government, right here in San Francisco. With the initial wrongdoing undertaken within the district, this court would continue to have authority over this matter - no matter where the government may choose to hide the young man from his family."

"Indeed. You're quite correct, Ms. Morgan, malfeasance that starts here can be punished here," Judge Younts agreed with the lawyer from Wolfram & Hart. "Motion denied."

Bowden silently sighed. { I swear, this is the reason I hate ever coming before Judge Younts. Logic and the law have no place here...and I'm a senior prosecutor, for Pete's sake. This piddling case should be handled by one of the newbies in our office. Why the hell was I ordered to be here? }

"Your Honor, on face value, this action is baseless. The individual in question is deceased. There are numerous witnesses, classmates and teachers both, who are willing to swear Mr. Harris ran the wrong way into a building that exploded, mere moments later on the day in question..."

Bowden sighed. "He was killed over a year ago, as Ms. Morgan's clients acknowledged when they filed a suit for wrongful death against the Sunnydale High school board. Now, they're arguing a position that directly contradicts their earlier assertions, on the basis of inconclusive photographs? The United States would like it noted for the record that the Harrises are continuing their suit in the Los Angeles courts, arguing wrongful death. But the plaintiffs can't have their cake and eat it too. They have to elect one action or the other."

"Your Honor, if I may?" Lilah asked sweetly. { Damn. This government attorney's good, I have to give him that. } Against a more impartial judge, that argument might have given her trouble.

She went on, "When the original action was filed, all the information available to the Harrises was that their son was in fact dead. It was only due to information gathered since that point in time, that has allowed this suit to be filed. To force them to choose at this point would be premature and unfair to them. And to allow the government to hide their only child, whom they love very much, from them on a mere technicality - must surely offend the dignity of this court..." { Okay, granted I'm laying it on pretty thick there. They really only loved him when he brought them booze. But what the hell, whatever works! }

"It does indeed, Ms. Morgan," Willard intoned from the bench.

{ Right. And letting a mass murderer loose on a technicality last week, doesn't bother you one bit? } Bowden thought silently. "Your Honor, despite Ms. Morgan's laudable eloquence, this entire case is nothing more than a conspiracy afficado's theory. The only evidence Wolfram & Hart have presented is some photographs, that they have yet to establish as bona fide. They haven't even produced the identity of the individual who took these photographs-"

Lilah interrupted the government lawyer, "Your Honor, the plaintiffs would like to produce the individual who took these photographs, and normally would have done so already. However, the man was killed recently in an automobile accident. I have the report in question from the LAPD," she held up another paper Lindsey gave to her.

Judge Younts raised an eyebrow, and looked at the Federal prosecutor. "I see. Very convenient, if you ask me," he remarked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He clearly believed sinister forces were behind the 'automobile accident'. And the man in the black robes wouldn't have been wrong about that; only about who had really killed him.

Willard looked out over the empty courtroom. { You know, I'm surprised there's no media in here. Every time there's a hearing on a death penalty case, the attorneys make a point of having them around. Maybe I'll make a few phone calls, find out why. God knows me catching the government in a heinous act wouldn't hurt having some press exposure. Maybe I'll even get another award from the ACLU, } he thought vaguely to himself.

"Yes, Your Honor, it certainly has presented problems for the plaintiffs in this matter," Lilah commented, carefully concealing any sense of irony. { The main problem was, of course, that we didn't want the photographer talking to anyone else. } "Our firm is willing of course to do whatever the court desires to facilitate the fact-finding process."

Judge Younts smiled at the attractive attorney, and waved off the last sentence. "I don't think that'll be necessary, Ms. Morgan, this court has already heard all that it needs to."

{ Oh no, } Bowden thought, suddenly suspecting his bosses might have known something about this he hadn't. { Odds are he's about to do something loopy. } "Your Honor, the United States would request to have a chance to examine and verify-"

"Mr. Bowden, I think the United States government has done just about enough, in this particular matter. So I'm ordering the FBI to produce Mr. Alexander Lavelle Harris at a time and place of the plaintiff's choosing, or else show just cause why it shouldn't be held in contempt-"

As the judge ruled, the door leading into his private chambers opened up, and a middle-aged woman with a very worried look on her face scurried through. "Ms. Morgan, if you could prepare an order reflecting that..." Younts' voice trailed off, as the woman arrived at his chair and whispered in his ear.

The mutterings between the two were unclear to the others in the courtroom. An occasional word could be made out, as well as the impatient tone of Younts' voice. Lilah and Lindsey didn't like the looks of this; but then any lawyer wouldn't, as it appeared something wrong was happening with their carefully-orchestrated scenario.

Eventually the man in black robes looked up at the courtroom, "There have been some unexpected developments. This court will be in recess for five minutes..." He banged his gavel - then got up and went through the door, with the woman scurrying behind him.

**Ten minutes later**

Everyone in the courtroom rose, as Judge Younts exited his chambers and retook his place on the bench. As he sat down in his brown leather chair, the others did so too.

"Your Honor. Before the break, you instructed me to prepare a release order that I was-" Lilah started to say, before the judge interrupted her.

"Ms. Morgan, I have pondered the issue carefully, and upon further reflection now feel that this court would benefit from giving the United States a chance to examine your evidence, and present its own. Therefore, an evidentiary hearing that would be beneficial to all parties seems to be called for here," Judge Younts looked noticeably paler since before the course of the break.

The man continued on, "Accordingly, this court schedules another hearing for nine o'clock in the morning, two days from today. Between now and then, a gag order is in place - directing that all parties in this matter are not to make any public comments, or discuss the case with anyone other than those already involved. The courtroom transcripts are now also sealed and ordered hidden from public view, pending further orders from the bench. Court is adjourned, until then."

Lilah and Lindsey looked at each other, stunned. Bowden just gathered up his papers, as the other parties quickly left the courtroom. { I was right, something screwy's going on. I wonder, what the hell happened during that break? Well, no matter, at least I won't have to feel completely embarrassed when I get back to the office... }

He headed out of the room as well, not noticing in the slightest what appeared to be a short man wearing a leather coat and a really ugly hat, who had been hanging around outside the legal chambers.

"Well, this is interesting," was the only comment he made to himself, in a broad Queens accent.

**Occupied Territories, West Bank, Israel. The next day**

The line of Humvees came to stop in front of a line of dusty old apartment buildings. As the vehicles came to a stop, a horde of soldiers piled out. All of them had their weapons at the ready, and scanned the neighborhood for any signs of trouble.

Xander watched the soldiers go about securing the locale they had arrived at. He was sitting in a Humvee near the end of the line of the convoy. The vehicle was extremely cramped as Xander, Red, Graham, Gunny, an Israeli police liaison and an Israeli army driver were all present in the small passenger compartment.

Xander's arrival in the Holy Land last night had not exactly been what he had expected. The plane from Germany had arrived at an Israeli Air Force base, under cover of complete darkness. Several Israeli army and police officers had been present to greet them. And after several hours for the American secret agents to get rested, the problem the Israelis had asked for help on was presented to them.

Intelligence sources within the Palestine resistance networks had passed word to the Mossad and Shin Bet, that something new and unique was on the way to attack targets within the country. Further investigation uncovered scant new details, except for the term 'hellhounds'; and the fact that many within the Palestine resistance movement disapproved of the new weapon, on the grounds that it used 'demons'.

Inquiries for information on this strange situation had been sent overseas, and the request had made its way to Siberian Trip Wire. Naturally, they thought it looked like something Xander Harris might be able to help with; and as the organization was looking for the man to be out of the way for a while, it seemed a good time for an exchange program with the Israeli security services.

An officer approached the Humvee, and signalled the all-clear to those inside the vehicle. Xander and the others exited the stale air of the Humvee's interior, into what passed for fresh air on the windswept street.

Harris worked the kinks out of his limbs, as he exited the transport. "Guys, not that I don't like you all, but next time - let's get a limo."

"Mr. Hall, a limo is inadvisable here. It would make too tempting a target," the Israeli police liaison nodded towards the groups of Palestinian civilians, who were starting to gather outside the perimeter formed by the soldiers.

Gunny appeared at Xander's side. "Come on, Hall. The less time we're exposed out here, the better." He quickly led the others into the building, which was the center of the soldiers' attention. The soldier continued, "Cleburne was quite clear that he wanted us to not make a scene. Strictly behind-the-scenes assist, which isn't helped by standing around in the street in front of a bunch of civilians."

{ True enough, } Xander thought at once. { That's kinda what got me in trouble, back in Los Angeles. } "Where is Cleburne, anyway? I thought he lived for this kind of stuff."

"He had some meetings to attend. Officer stuff," Gunny said, as they walked through a dark hallway to a staircase that led down to the building's basement. "He'll catch up with us later, if need be."

The basement was cramped, with boxes strewn all over the place. It was obvious that whoever had been living here, hadn't been planning on making it a permanent abode. Already, several soldiers were going through the room looking for anything of interest.

An officer came up to the group that had just come down the stairs. "Looks like they were here just a few hours ago. We found the morning paper in this mess, so we must have just missed them."

The Israeli police liaison muttered under his breath, "Damn, I was hoping to contain this, now we'll have to track them down!"

The officer nodded. "Well, we need to do it quick. Because we found something else..." He led the others to a back room. "I don't know what it means, but this doesn't look good."

The room had three small cages, like the kind you would find in a kennel, set up in the middle of the room. Attached to each cage were jumper cables, which went to a car battery. Along the wall were various staffs, pikes and cattle prods. In front of each cage was a television set, which fed into a common videocassette player.

Xander shook his head. { Oh, I remember this. Tucker Wells, in all his glory. } Both this time and the first time around, Buffy had encountered Tucker and his hellhounds...

The Israeli said uncertainly, "We're not sure what they had in there, but the people in the apartment above heard a lot of animal growling. I think they were torturing whatever they had down here-"

"No. They were conditioning the hellhounds."

"Hellhounds? I, uh, thought that was just a code name," said the police liaison, who went by the name Levy.

"More than just a code name, pal. They're demon foot soldiers. Savage dog-like beasts that'll rip the skin from your bones..."

"Demon foot soldiers?" the army officer said, with more that a trace of skepticism in his voice. "Come on. It was probably just wild dogs they had down here-"

"No," Gunny said, as he examined the cages. "You don't need to electrify a cage to keep dogs penned up, however pissed they get. This was something more."

"And I've seen this before," Xander commented, as he looked around the room. "Well, *heard* about it to be absolutely accurate. You train the hellhounds to go beserk at a specific trigger, and then turn them loose. You then sit back, and watch the body count multiply."

Levy looked around also. "You mean, kind of like an organic suicide bomber? Actually better, because less hassle than putting together a bomb..."

"Well, whatever it was, it wasn't completely safe." The army officer pointed at a patch of dried blood on the wall, next to one of the cages.

"I'd imagine they didn't like being cooped up, and wanted to lash out," Red commented.

The former Hellmouth resident looked thoughtful. "They'll have been conditioned to attack certain things. Let's see if we can find out what it is they'll go beserk at..."

Xander walked over to the VCR player, and checked to see if a tape was still in it. "Yep, they left without the tape, so whatever it is they're planning - they feel they've conditioned the demons enough." Xander pushed the play button on the VCR, and walked over to see what the picture was.

The picture showed several people praying, rocking their heads back and forth, in front of a stone wall. Gunny and the other Siberians looked at the screen, not recognizing what they were seeing.

But Xander, who had grown up with the Jewish girl known as Willow Rosenberg, recognized the site immediately. As did the two Israelis in the room; and all three of them were instantly worried.

"Blessed be Adonoi Elohim, but they're going to turn those things loose at the Wailing Wall?" Levy whispered.

**Shadyhill Cemetery, Sunnydale, California. The same day**

Tara walked along the line of tombstones. Her conversation with Buffy and Willow about the former Scooby named Xander Harris hadn't gone as well as she had hoped. On the other hand, though, it hadn't been a complete disaster either.

It was obvious Buffy at least still had issues with her former friend. So afterwards Tara figured she should meet the source of the problem, or the next best thing. She approached the tombstone with the name 'Alexander Lavelle Harris' on it.

The Wicca knew where the marker was, even though she had never previously visited it before, as both Buffy and Willow visited it enough that it was a familiar landmark to the Scoobies.

She stopped in front of the stone. "H-hello," Tara said hesitantly. "I know we've never met before and if you could see me right now, you wouldn't have any idea who I am," she continued on saying, not knowing how incorrect that statement was. "But I'm Tara Maclay. I-I'm Willow's girlfriend. And I care for her very much."

The blonde then took a deep breath, unsure what to say next. After a few seconds she continued, "I know you think, or thought, that Willow deserted you that night. And that Buffy did the same thing. Ditto with that Cordelia girl, who-who I've never met also..."

She finished up, "But they didn't mean to. They just...weren't thinking. They never meant to hurt you. And I hope that wherever you are, by the grace of the Goddess you've forgiven them for what happened."

The woman who thought her demon side would erupt out when she hit 20 years old paused yet again. "I promise I'm going to continue working with them, trying to get them to come to grips with what they did. Because secrets within a family have a way of popping out...when you least expect them to." She deliberated for a second, realizing just how true that could be for her family's situation. "And that's what we all are, including you. A family." { More of a family than the one I came from, } she thought to herself.

"I wanted to ask that you, wherever you are, if you haven't already done so please try to find it in your heart to forgive them. I know you had a lot of anger towards them afterwards. I hope that you can put that aside, and see that they didn't mean for you to come to any harm. They never for a second suspected that there was another vampire there. If they'd had even the slightest inkling you could have come to harm, they never would have done what they did."

She stood there in thought for a few seconds. "Of course, even if there *hadn't* been another vampire, they still shouldn't have left you like that. They really weren't thinking straight. If they had thought it through, they never would have done it."

Tara sighed. "Well, that's what I wanted to say and if you don't mind, I'll just stay here for a few more minutes."

**East Jerusalem. Later that day**

Levy absentmindedly dropped the cigarette he had been smoking a moment before to the ground. He then ground it into the dirt with his foot.

The man had been watching the store across the street for the past couple of hours. He had reason to believe that the owners of the store had connections that might lead to these 'hellhounds', that the American agent called Hall had told them about.

Hall and the other Americans were in a van parked several blocks away. They had all headed here, once it had been determined that the man who had rented the basement where the demons had been held, was the brother of the owner of this store. A constant of terrorist networks in the Arab world was that they all put great stock in family ties. And Levy was definitely hoping that it held true in this case.

So far, it hadn't. There had just been some deliveries and customers during the time the store was being watched. Levy knew they were working against a deadline, but not what it was.

"So, anything shaking over there?"

Levy started a little bit at the sudden question from behind him. He glanced behind him, to see the person he knew as Alexander Hall standing there along with the one they called Gunny. Levy raised an eyebrow at the two.

Xander shrugged his shoulders. "What can I say? It was getting damn cramped in the van."

"You should have stayed there," Levy turned his attention back to the store. "Nothing's been happening here."

"So what do we know about this guy?" Xander nodded at the store.

"Local bigwig. Big contributor to the local mosque. Does lots of things for the neighborhood, and all of his neighbors look to him to settle their disputes. Connected to the local terrorist cells, but I suppose you could argue that's not entirely his fault; after all, you won't survive for long here if the bombers are gunning for you."

Xander and Gunny listened to Levy's description of the storeowner. "He's close to his brother?" Gunny asked.

"Yes, it's a tight-knit family. They all try to see each other every day. Well, except for those studying overseas."

"Who's overseas, and where are they studying?" Xander asked.

"He's got two sons and a daughter studying in America," was the reply.

"Why is it they're always chanting 'Yankee go home', but then they want to follow us there?" Gunny muttered under his breath.

"So he speaks English?" Xander asked, ignored Gunny's mutterings.

"Yes, quite well. American TV cameras seem to find him when they need a quote from the street."

Xander was thinking, "You say he contributes to the local mosque, so - is he very religious?"

Levy nodded in an affirmative manner to that. "Yes, he always closes the store whenever the time for prayers come."

Xander smiled in an enigmatic way. And Gunny instantly felt his stomach rumbling, as he knew the kid was about to do something off the wall.

"Come on, Gunny. I'm thirsty, let's get something to drink..." Xander said as he started across the street, before the two men with him could react.

"Damn it..." Gunny muttered in exasperation, as he followed Harris.

The bell on the top of the door rang as Xander entered the store. The owner of the store stared, as Xander and Gunny made their way to where the soft drinks were. The younger man picked up two bottles, and gave one to Gunny. He then headed to the counter.

"Hey there. How much for this?" he asked in English, and motioned towards the bottles the secret agents now held.

The owner, still looking skeptical, quoted a price.

Xander nodded and paid it. "So what's the good word?" he nonchalantly asked, as he did so.

"There are many good words, are there not? Almost all of them in the Koran," the owner, who was called Abdullah, replied.

{ Good, I was hoping for something like that in response. Let's hope the info Levy got about the dissension over the hellhounds is also on the money. } "True enough. However, sometimes the word can be hidden 'cause of how you learned of it."

Abdullah frowned at Xander, as he counted the change for the American. "In what way?"

"If a demon shows you the way, shouldn't you wonder why the demon is doing so? To use a demon to accomplish your goals, certainly taints what you seek with the mark of Satan. Or so they taught me in Sunday school," Xander took the change. "Thank you for the drinks," he then said cheerfully, as he left the store.

Gunny followed along beside him. "What the hell was all that about?"

"Just putting to good use memories of a dinner table I enjoyed eating at." As the dinner conversations at the Rosenberg table had forced Xander to think quick on his feet, when Mr. Rosenberg had gone into his debating mode.

**Twenty minutes later**

Xander leaned against the wall as he watched the store, sipping on his soft drink. Several people had gone in and out of the store since Xander and Gunny had been in there.

"What exactly are we waiting for?" Levy asked. "You know he's made us now. You going in spoiled the surveillance. We should pack it up and try a new source," he then said impatiently.

"No, we'll wait here," Xander said, looking vaguely at nothing.

Gunny just glanced at him and observed the street scene of children playing. Xander continued, "He knows we're here, that's the whole point..."

Levy shrugged, and went back to watching the store. All three of them continued doing so for a few minutes.

A child started babbling in Arabic; and even though Xander didn't know he was saying "Hey mister, you dropped this," the young American managed to get the general gist. Harris looked down at the kid that had been playing in the streets; he had wandered over to where the three boys were fooling around, and the child was now holding a folded piece of paper out towards Xander.

"Did I drop this? Guess I did. Thank you," Xander said with a smile, as he took the piece of paper. The kid nodded, and ran off to rejoin his friends in the game.

"Come on, we got what we needed," Xander turned to leave, followed by the other two.

"What is that?" Levy asked in curiosity.

Xander unfolded and looked at the writing on the paper. "What to look for in the morning." He handed the paper to Levy.

Levy took it and looked at the writing on it. _Fajiel Soda truck, tomorrow morning_ was all it said.

**United States District Court for the Northern District of California Federal Courthouse, San Francisco, California. The next morning**

"All rise," the bailiff called out, as Judge Younts entered the court.

Everyone in the courtroom rose and waited for the judge to sit down, before they did. He quickly called the case to order, "Are both parties ready to proceed?"

Both Lilah and Bowden replied in the affirmative. The legal chambers were again empty, except for the lawyers and Xander's parents; Judge Younts had definitely not called the media, in light of the phone call he had received. And Lilah had put her witnesses in a room outside of the legal chambers.

"Ms. Morgan, you may call your first witness," Younts said in a no-nonsense tone.

Lilah signaled to Lindsey, who got up and headed to the door leading to the witness room. "Yes, Your Honor, the plaintiffs would like to call-"

Bowden interrupted her, though. "Your Honor, if I may? The United States believes it can facilitate bringing this case to a quick conclusion, by producing an individual which I believe can explain everything that has happened in this matter."

Judge Younts stared at the government attorney. "Is that so. Well, you may proceed, but I'm warning you Mr. Bowden - this had better be worth it..."

Lilah was taken aback by this turn of events. She glanced over at Lindsey, as one of the bailiffs opened the door to the waiting room for the government's witnesses. { What the hell have they got up their sleeves? }

Through the door walked a young man, dark-haired and about six feet tall. He also bore a striking resemblance to the image of Xander Harris, in the photographs.

{ God, they're going with a lookalike argument? How pathetic! But good thing we prepared for this, } Lilah thought to herself. Lindsey headed back to the table, and started rifling through the briefcase he had brought with him.

Bowden said confidently, "Your Honor, may I present Special Agent Sean Thayer, from the FBI's field office in Oklahoma City. He is an expert on cults, and their efforts to recruit new members from teenage runaways on the streets. I'm told he was on temporary detached duty at the LA office, to assist with the raid on the cult's headquarters-"

Lilah was definitely worried now. { This is not good. Two days ago, Younts would have objected to calling those demons at the runaway shelter a cult. But today, he doesn't even bat an eye? }

The prosecutor continued on, "Since this action was filed here instead of in Los Angeles where the attorneys familiar with the raid are, none of the lawyers who were answering the complaint knew about Agent Thayer's resemblance to the deceased Mr. Harris. The fact is though, he is the individual in the photographs."

Younts looked over at the new arrival in the courtroom. "Agent Thayer, are you willing to swear under oath that you were involved in the raid on the cult compound, on the day in question?" The judge sounded a little broken up, when he spoke these words.

"Yes, Your Honor. I was also outside right after the raid was concluded, where I believe the photographs in question were taken. I'm sorry if there's been some sort of misunderstanding, and I'd like to help clear it up in any way I can..."

"I see," The judge looked out over the courtroom. "Well, after having heard the arguments from both parties, examining the photographs and seeing Agent Thayer in person here, this court is satisfied that he is indeed the individual in the photos."

"Your Honor-" Lilah tried to interject.

Judge Younts continued on, ignoring the attorney from Wolfram & Hart. "Accordingly, I must hereby rule that there is insufficient evidence on behalf of the plaintiffs; case dismissed..."

Lilah was engulfed by disbelief, she wasn't even getting a chance to cross-examine the witness! "Your Honor, if I may-"

The man in the black robes abruptly went on, "To avoid complications for any future cult-related investigations and to preserve Agent Thayer's ability to assist in said investigations, this court is ordering that the courtroom records shall remain sealed. And that the gag order issued by the court previously shall remain in place, until so ordered otherwise."

The judge banged his gavel down, cutting off the now half-coherent objections from both Lilah and Lindsey. "Court's adjourned." He then got up and left the room.

Lilah and Lindsey looked at each other again. { What the hell just happened here? } the male lawyer thought to himself.

But before he could say anything to Lilah, a bailiff leaned down and whispered into their ears, "You and your clients are wanted in chambers."

**Five minutes later**

Lilah looked up, as the door to the conference room they were in opened up. She had expected to see Judge Younts walking in, with some half-baked explanation of what had just happened. Instead, in walked a middle-aged African-American woman, followed by two men.

"Good morning, all," the woman said to Lilah, Lindsey, plus Mr. and Mrs. Harris. "I hope you've had a pleasant stay in San Francisco."

Lilith looked at the new arrivals, not wasting time. "You must know that we'll appeal. And there's no way that hearing will stand up to scrutiny in any appeals court-"

The woman looked across the table at Lilah. "That is certainly your clients' right. And in the spirit of friendly cooperation, the appellate process has been sped up for them." She slid a piece of paper across the table to the female attorney. "Here's the court order specifying that any appeal of Judge Younts' decision shall be heard by the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court. That cuts out the middle man quite nicely, and should enable a rapid conclusion for all concerned."

{ So that's what's going on. They brought out the big guns already - damn. Harris is more connected than I anticipated. I wonder what they have over Younts? } Lindsey thought to himself. "The wall to hide what you've done won't last long, once we start making noise about your actions-"

"That's assuming that your clients will want to push this matter much farther. Personally, I doubt that they will."

Mr. Harris, red-faced, snapped back at her, "I don't know what kind of game you're playing - but you're going to pay for what you've done to us, you bitch!" Lilah mentally sighed, thankful that Anthony hadn't had a chance to start drinking yet this morning, or who knew what he would have said then.

Esther Marcum raised an eyebrow at the people across the table. "Okay, I guess we'll start with the stick then..."

She nodded to one of the men with her. He opened the briefcase he was carrying, and brought out a sizeable chunk of papers. The man dropped them on the table, where they made a loud thump as they landed.

Marcum said, "In case you're wondering, Mr. Harris, these are your son's medical records from the various hospitals in the town of Sunnydale. They go back to when he was about four years old or so."

"What of it?" Harris growled back, ignoring the efforts of his wife to calm him down.

"Well, it certainly seems quite a prodigious amount of paper for just one child, don't you think?" She nodded to the man once more, who produced a second group of papers and dropped them next to the hospital records, again making a large thump as he did so. "Now these are records from social services, concerning your son. And the third group of papers my colleague is about to produce are various police reports, generated as a result of those records. Would you care to know what conclusion the Sunnydale PD came to?"

The middle-aged Mr. Harris just glared across the table at the new arrivals. His senses were free enough of alcohol at this time, to realize that something was now really wrong.

Esther continued on, "The authorities came to the conclusion, from the number of injuries that your son suffered, that you were abusing him. And that the abuse was maintained almost up to the day of his disappearance, in 1998. Quite frankly, Xander Harris's high school years read like a textbook of various injuries. Both the police and social services wanted you prosecuted for it. They forwarded that recommendation onto the relevant District Attorney's office."

Both Mr. and Mrs. Harris paled at that. Lilah just glanced at them without any compassion. This wasn't exactly news to her; what *was* a surprise was that her clients had thought they could possibly hide it.

"Now then," the STW bigwig continued on, noting with some satisfaction the discomfort of the Harris couple. "At the time when these recommendations were made, the district attorney was a protégé of the late Mayor Richard Wilkins III. And Wilkins, although very good at certain things, did have this nasty habit of turning a blind eye towards certain foibles of the residents of Sunnydale. Things were allowed to...slide."

"What *exactly* are you saying?" Lindsey asked.

"There's a new district attorney in Sunnydale nowadays. One not beholden to Mayor Wilkins or his beliefs." That fact hung in the air for a second, before Esther fired her next shot across their bow. "And it is my understanding that the statute of limitations has not yet run out, on these potential criminal charges."

The silence in the room lasted for several seconds, as that information sunk in. Esther then spoke up again, "You must admit, that would be quite a feather in the cap of the new DA - getting a conviction on a child abuse case, and don't doubt that there would be a conviction, where the victim had died over a year ago."

Lilith cogitated for a second and thought, { There's certainly enough evidence to get a conviction, I know that much from my own background check. And with the man - no, sorry - woman in black pulling the strings from behind the curtain, a conviction is a certainty. This changes things... }

The man who had been placing the papers on the table suddenly spoke up. "You know, the prison population is reputed to be quite vicious, when it comes to child abusers within their ranks. In both the men's and women's facilities." He sent a pointed glance at Mrs. Harris, who went even paler than she had before.

After about a minute or so, the male Harris spoke up. "You said this was the stick, right? So, is there a carrot?"

Marcum nodded at him. She motioned to the other man, who had entered the room with her. "This is Stephen Maxwell, and he's prepared to become your new attorney with regard to your lawsuit against the Sunnydale High school board. He's already been in preliminary negotiations with them, and basically - the board is willing to enter into a settlement of your case, with a monetary compensation of approximately half a million dollars."

Both of the supposedly grieving parents perked up at the dollar amount mentioned. Lilah spoke up at once, "Now, hold on a second. This is a blatant attempt to subvert the legal process, and we're not..."

Mr. Harris interrupted her at once, "Shut up. All right lady, what do you want from us?"

"Firstly, drop the lawsuit against the government. Accept that your son is dead. And from what I've seen of your parenting abilities, I doubt that'll be too much of a burden for you. Second - leave Sunnydale and California, never to return. Arrangements can be made to relocate you to any other part of the country you want. As a matter of fact, we're packing you up as I speak; there's no need for you even to return to Sunnydale. And thirdly, never speak of this matter ever again, for the rest of your lives."

Lilah interrupted again, for the situation was rapidly getting beyond her control. "This is outrageous! You can't just come in here and try to-"

Esther interrupted her this time, talking directly to the Harris parents. "Also, you should be aware that there are several individuals I'm personally acquainted with that were particularly...disturbed by the information we discovered, concerning the treatment of your son. They wanted to meet with you in person to discuss the matter. Although knowing them, I suspect their views would be made in a...shall we say...non-verbal manner?"

Anthony and Jessica Harris looked at each other in silent communication. Mr. Harris then turned to Lilah and Lindsey, "You're fired." He then turned to Esther, "What do we do now?"

The black woman slid a group of papers across the table to him, barely suppressing a look of disgust as she did so. "Just sign on the dotted line."

Lindsey almost smirked, as Lilah looked ready to kill someone - when Anthony and then Jessica Harris signed on with the enemy. { Better luck next time, sweetheart. Well, I better get back to LA, and see how Darla's doing... }

**The Wailing Wall, Jerusalem, Israel. Later that day**

Xander scanned the street. He kept his eyes peeled for the soft drink truck named in the note. With him was the Israeli police officer Levy, and Xander's fellow Siberians. They were in a second story office that overlooked the street, leading to the Wailing Wall.

The Israeli spoke up, "How do we know he didn't get another vehicle? Something more discreet..."

"He can't. He needs a truck to transport the hellhounds. They won't fit into just any old car," Xander replied. "Those things kinda stick out like a sore thumb. A really ugly, hairy, nasty-looking sore thumb. So he needs a custom job to transport the devil dogs."

The local authorities had flooded the area with undercover police officers, as they didn't want to spook the terrorist completely. If they did, he might decide to hit a target they would be completely unprepared for. The hope was to catch him before he got too close to the Wailing Wall and those praying there. When he was spotted, there was a large number of army troops out of sight ready to handle the situation.

Gunny checked his watch. "Nothing really special about these things, right?"

"Not really. No lasers coming from their eyes, if that's what you mean. Just the run-of-the-mill demons who want to tear you apart with their claws and teeth," Xander replied with a chuckle.

Back when the first senior Prom had taken place, and Xander hated it that he still had headache-inducing doubles of every experience in his life since the end of his junior year of high school, good old Slayer strength had worked to kill them. So the X-man was willing to bet that these beasts were vulnerable in the same way.

"You know Hall, before you came along, things were so much easier," Gunny grunted "Are we sure he'll come this way?"

"Yeah, this is the route the trucks take to deliver supplies to the concession stands nearby. Considering he's disguised as a soft drink truck, he has to come this way to avoid suspicion."

They kept watch for another 15 minutes, when they were finally rewarded. Red saw it first, "Truck coming, this might be it..."

The others turned their gazes to the truck Red had spotted. "Can anyone see the sign on the side?" Gunny asked.

"Not yet," Graham Miller replied. He shifted positions to try and get a better view.

Levy spoke into the walkie-talkie he was carrying. After a few seconds Graham spoke up, "Okay, Fajiel Soda. That's it!" He started out of the office. The others followed.

Levy started speaking into his walkie-talkie, "Truck sighted. Move into position. Be prepared to take it down when I give the word!"

The group made their way down the stairs and out into the street. The truck was about halfway down the street now. It was an old, small-sized moving van. As they hit the street, Levy again spoke into the walkie-talkie. "Go!"

As he finished speaking, an army truck pulled out at the end of the street and blocked further progress by the terrorist's van. Behind them, another truck did the same at the entry of the street. Soldiers started spilling out of the two trucks, the civilians on the street running for cover as they saw the army troops.

The van stopped and stood still, as the soldiers approached it with their weapons aimed at it.

"Don't wait, get him out now!" Xander yelled as the soldiers seemed to falter for a second, waiting for a reaction from the inside. Gunny could be heard to cuss as he saw the same thing Xander did.

There was movement in the van. The terrorist had slipped into the back compartment. A few seconds later, the back door of the van slid up, and three hellhounds jumped down and looked around.

They saw the army surrounding them, and responded to their conditioning. All three demon foot soldiers growled, and attacked the armed forces. The nearest grunt to them opened fire with his assault rifle...

The bullets impacted against the hellhound closest to him. The hellhound was clearly hurt, but it wasn't disabled. It leaped at its tormentor, and started tearing at his flesh with its claws.

The other soldiers were stunned for a second, at the sight of something that common sense said *couldn't* be there. "Move, now, kill them!" shouted Levy, who drew his pistol and blasted several shots at another of the hellhounds.

"Knives and bayonets! Use your knives and bayonets!" Xander shouted, drawing out a Bowie knife as he did so.

About half of the soldiers heard Xander's shout and did likewise, drawing their own melee weapons. The others opened up with their rifles. As they did so, a young Arab man dropped out of the rear of the van and darted down the street, towards an alley opening. The third hellhound leaping to attack had drawn off the soldiers who had been guarding that alley.

The second hellhound came towards the Siberians, aiming to get at Levy who was still shooting at it. Xander stabbed at it though, as the beast got within arm's reach. "Damn it, quit shooting! It's not big enough to do any good, and you might hit one of us!" he shouted at Levy. So the police liaison holstered his pistol, and looked for another weapon.

The first hellhound, the one that had attacked the soldier, fell back with blood pumping out from the numerous wounds on its chest. The soldier who was being attacked had put the barrel against the beast's skin and kept pulling the trigger, until he had run out of ammo. The brute force had worked enough to push the hellhound off, whereupon several bayonet-wielding soldiers dispatched the wounded creature.

The second hellhound found itself in the midst of the Siberians. They all had knives out, and quickly killed the demon. Levy, who had by now had picked up a knife from a fallen soldier, looked around. "Where did he go?" he shouted, referring to the terrorist.

"The alley!" yelled one soldier in Hebrew. "He took off down there, once the animals attacked!"

In the alley, the terrorist turned a corner and suddenly stopped, facing the person standing in front of him. "Abdullah? What are you doing?"

"How could you? Use the Devil's tools-"

The Siberians, Levy and several soldiers started down the alleyway. But before they got halfway down the alley, they heard a gunshot. Getting to the end of the alley, they found the terrorist's body laying on the ground.

"What happened?" Levy asked, as he scanned the alley for the source of the weapons fire.

"I think he just committed the ultimate cardinal sin for any terrorist organization," Gunny said, as he slowed down and examined the body.

"And that is?" Xander asked him.

"He had an idea that his superiors didn't like; and worse, from their viewpoint, it didn't work either."

**Great Russell Street, London, England. The next day**

The Watcher named Phillip strode into the office of his immediate superior, Quentin Travers. "The reports you wanted, Mr. Travers..."

Quentin didn't even look at him, as Phillip placed down the papers and the old man kept reading some documents at his desk. "Close the door on your way out."

Phillip took a deep breath. "Sir, there are matters we need to discuss. Alexander Harris has been sighted-"

Travers dropped his papers at once. "What? Where is he?"

"Jerusalem, sir."

The bearded man got up, with a wild look on his face. "Gather the necessary people immediately! I want to be there in a few hours-"

Phillip cringed but nonetheless said, "I think not, Mr. Travers."

Quentin stared at his underling, unable to believe what he'd heard. "What did you say? Did I actually hear you correctly?"

The younger Watcher said fearfully, "Israel is not the United States, sir. We don't have the contacts or resources there to mount a successful extraction - at least, not in the short time window available. He appears to be in the company of Israeli Army, and we do not have the resources to face off against them on their home ground. And according to our field Watchers on-site, he's leaving today for destination unknown. There's also the probability of exposure of our personnel-"

"The Devil take your details, man!" Travers shouted. "That insolent child dared threaten me. Actually dared to hurt my person! I will not rest until he's in our custody, and never mind how many people we lose along the way!" Then he saw Phillip wince. "What is it now?" the guy demanded.

The man sighed. "If I may, I'd suggest not repeating that in public. Sir."

The senior Watcher frowned. "Why not?"

Phillip stared at him. "Mr. Travers, after Lydia resigned, when asked why - she told the people involved what Mr. Harris told you, that day in the Army-Navy Club. That the only reason he didn't kill you, was that...the days of the Council and the Watchers are already numbered. It, uh, it's leaked out, and there have been a massive number of resignations ever since then..."

The balding man looked stunned. "Why wasn't I informed of this?"

"I don't know, sir. But to completely change the subject, there is another pressing matter we need to discuss."

Travers sighed, as he sat down. { Botheration. Well, I suppose I may as well get this over with... } "Get on with it, then."

Phillip hesitated. "It's to do with the Slayer, sir. Uh, not Ms. Summers; our Slayer."

"What about her?"

"The situation with the Cleveland Hellmouth is getting rather...difficult, I'm sorry to say. So, Miss Kennedy is, ah, already on her way there-"

Travers leapt up again at once, his eyes blazing. "She'll do no such thing! Those blasted American idiots are not getting their hands on our Chosen One!"

Phillip said softly, "Mr. Travers, I'm afraid I've not been completely honest with you."

Quentin sat down slowly, sending an unfriendly glare at his subordinate. "Explain yourself at once."

"I've known about the Ohio situation for some time, sir. It's, um, become common knowledge that the Hellmouth there is becoming more active, as a result of its supernatural energy increasing. The thing is, I've made - uh, unauthorized arrangements for one of our people and the Slayer to operate there, unmolested by the colonial government."

Travers frowned. "What are you talking about? And just *how* did you pull that off?" the British man didn't like the fact his underling was showing so much initiative.

Phillip took another deep breath. "Sir, the fact that Mr. Harris is now part of the U.S. intelligence network, made me think that we needed someone he knew - to vouch for one of our operatives..." He then said in a rush, "That's why I contacted Rupert Giles."

"YOU DID WHAT?!"

The young Englishman babbled, "He was Alexander Harris's mentor for two years, and so the odds were that Rupert's word would hold some weight with the organization that's calling the shots in this matter. Even though he appears to be unaware that Mr. Harris is still alive, he agreed to assist us. He, uh, Mr. Giles recommended Sam Zabuto to take over as Kennedy's Watcher, and Cummings with the embassy in Washington has managed to clear it with the government authorities. They'll be there by tomorrow, at the latest..."

Travers was apoplectic. "How *dare* you take it upon yourself, to make such decisions. Your services are terminated, effective immediately! Pack your things and get out of my sight!"

Phillip nodded, he'd been more-or-less expecting this. That was why he'd already packed his stuff...but he then thought with a mental shrug, { Who else was going to make the decision, old man? You've become obsessed with Alexander Harris, and nothing else. So *someone* had to do the job you're supposed to be doing... } "Very good, sir."

He turned around as if to leave, then looked back. "Oh, good luck on your meeting today at 3 pm, Mr. Travers."

"Meeting? What meeting?" his former superior demanded angrily.

Phillip sighed, his repressed disgust with his ex-boss finally surfacing now that he no longer had anything to lose. { No wonder the organization's in such a bloody mess. I *told* you about it yesterday! } "The assembly meeting to decide what to do about Mr. Harris's prophecies regarding the Council, sir." The young man then quickly left.

Quentin Travers gnashed his teeth furiously. { I promise you this much, child. The day *will* come when I have my pound of flesh... }

TBC...


	9. Chapter 9

**Part Nine**

**Unmarked military airfield near Prague, Czech Republic. July 2000, 72 hours later**

Xander fidgeted in the chair, as they waited in the pilot's lounge. Gunny, Red and Graham all also sat in the chairs, just sitting around and killing time. It had been a hectic three days, since they had left Israel.

The incident at the Wailing Wall had definitely unnerved the Israeli officials. Xander and the other Siberians had spent the next day trying to explain to various higher-ups about the things that went bump in the night; and at first, the response to their story was skeptical.

However, the dead demon bodies and what was found at the terrorist hideaway was enough to eventually persuade the listeners of the validity of what they were told.

The whole group had been moved to an isolated Air Force base near Tel Aviv, where several Israeli military and espionage types had shown up to learn about the demon underworld that had previously existed beyond their sight. They had peppered the Americans with questions...

Well, Xander had told them what he could, carefully editing out any information from the future that didn't relate to vampires and the like. He figured that would be for Cleburne and the other leaders of Siberian Trip Wire to talk about. And the people he had met with were quick learners, listening with great interest about the demon threat.

They had quickly followed up with questions as to how to deal with it. Xander also got the feeling that the people he had talked to were doing some research of their own, since several of the demons they had asked about weren't of species that Xander or any of the American secret agents had mentioned to them.

Much as he hated school environments, Xander had found himself acting as a teacher to the Israelis, when he wasn't doing homework himself. Even though Cleburne wasn't there, still doing *officer stuff* as Gunny put it, he had made sure that Xander's travelling companions saw to it Harris ended up doing his assignments.

Graham even had some of the same materials, as it turned out, for he also was attending the 'University of Wizard' as they called the classes thought up by Hollins. They had sent the results of what they had done so far by email back to the States, which were followed twelve hours later by Hollins emailing them back the test scores and more assignments.

Finally, after three days of teaching and being a student at the same time, the next morning Gunny had announced that they were ready to leave. A plane ride later, the four had arrived at the airfield in the Czech Republic. The Czech military had placed them in a private lounge used by VIPs, and they were waiting now.

"When's Cleburne supposed to be here?" Xander asked.

"Shouldn't be long. He flew back to Ramstein to pick up the package that the Wizard sent. Should have the materials you need to find these monks. Other stuff also, something about a package to be sent on to the Israelis? I think they're trying to get something up and running to deal with the undead in the Holy Land," Gunny replied.

"Well, I wish he'd hurry up. Hanging out in the middle of night in the middle of Europe sounds too much like a bad horror movie."

They waited another twenty minutes, before the Siberian C.O. walked in. "Evening everyone, miss me?" he said with a smirk.

"Like a hangover," Xander replied back with a grimace.

"Kid, I figure you'd be happy to see me, on account of the Wizard came through for you. By the way, he said for you to work on your geography." Cleburne then tossed a paperback book to Xander. The guy looked down, and he saw that it was a pocket atlas.

He quickly glanced back up. "Wizard came through? The monks?"

Cleburne nodded, as he made his way over to a table. "The Order of Dagon. Right here on the map for us." The agent unfolded said map, and pointed down at it. "Premsyl Brod Koruna Monastery. Been on the map since the 1200s, after this guy called Tarnis founded it. It's about 200 klicks from here. Gotta say, it's a very decent-sized compound. They even have a tourist aspect to it, believe it or not. Lots of Baroque paintings and the like. I figure we just drive up as tourists."

"And then what?" Red asked.

"We see just how convincing Hall can be to the Abbot guy in charge," Cleburne motioned at Xander. "I hope you got your persuading hat in your suitcase, kid."

"Oh, I'll do my best," Xander replied. "When do we leave?"

"Well, our Czech liaison has gotten rooms for us on base. We'll get a good night's sleep, and by then our new traveling companion should arrive."

Gunny frowned at that. "New traveling companion? What's that about, Colonel?"

Xander stared at the older man for a moment, who appeared not to notice. Joshua just shrugged, "Israelis are sending a observer to learn the ins and outs of demon killing, the kid here made a real impression on them. So now, they want in on the game."

"And what do we get in return?" Gunny had known Cleburne long enough to know that he wouldn't let someone just tag along with no good reason.

"Complete access to their covert intelligence sources in the Middle East. That should help us deal with the terrorists better."

"You know, we're going to end up looking like a traveling circus before too long," Xander observed cynically.

"Don't worry about it kid, in fact - I'm betting pretty soon, you'll thank me," Cleburne said with a smirk.

**UC Sunnydale, Sunnydale, California. Four hours later**

Willow walked back into her dorm, after having gone out for a walk to try to clear her head. She had found herself walking through her old neighborhood, lost in thought...

Then passing by Xander's old house, the redhead had been surprised to see a 'For Sale' sign up. Asking some questions of the neighbors, who all remembered the red-haired girl from younger days, had revealed that the Harris clan - all two of them - had moved suddenly, having found new jobs out of town.

And that, along with the conversation with Tara from several days before, had gotten Ms. Rosenberg thinking.

{ I can't talk to Buffy about this. She's still in her attack mode, } Will thought sadly to herself. { But I gotta talk to *someone* from back in high school, someone that would understand what I'm going through... } An idea had come to Willow suddenly, and she'd headed back to her dorm room.

The teenager entered and was happy to see that Buffy was absent, most likely with Jeff - as it was still summer vacation here. And with the mood her best friend was currently in, what with the sudden appearance of a new vamp Master that had taken Harmony's place and Tara's questions about Xander, Willow *so* did not want her in the room when she made this call.

A glance at the clock showed that there was at least an hour before Buffy would most likely be back. { Buffy said something about shopping when she left this morning. Then she was going by the gallery to see Joyce. That would use up the whole afternoon, for Buffy. } So Willow dialed the number, and waited for an answer.

"Angel Investigations. We help the helpless."

"Cordy? Hi, it's Willow. You free to talk for a while?"

**141 Embury Street, Los Angeles, California. Half an hour later**

Wesley Wyndham-Pryce wearily trudged into Cordelia Chase's Silverlake apartment, looking for Angel to discuss their latest case.

Under the ensouled vampire's tutelage, Wes had flourished and grown from the useless dweeb he had been in Sunnydale. Beneath the pompous exterior had been a competent man, who just needed to stop pretending he was something he wasn't; and the guy who had looked ridiculous after dropping that Bavarian fighting axe in that alley last year, was nowhere to be found nowadays.

"Angel?" he called out, as the Englishman made his way into the main room. "Angel, I-" But then he stopped in alarm, as he saw Cordy sitting on the couch. And tears were flowing freely down her cheeks. "Cordelia?"

At hearing her name, the brunette girl blinked, and turned around to face the former Watcher. "Wes? When did you get here?"

"Just now, I - Cordelia, what's wrong?"

The former cheerleader got some Kleenex, and hurriedly wiped her tears away. "Nothing."

Wesley cocked his head a little. "Now that's a load of old codswallop, if you'll pardon the expression," the man said with that British accent, that had charmed the girl in high school - before they'd found out how romantically incompatible they really were. "You said it yourself a few months ago, we're family now. What's troubling you?"

Cordy sighed in defeat and confessed, "I just - I, uh, just now got off the phone with Willow."

Wesley looked concerned, "Is she all right? Is the Hellmouth-"

"No, no, everything's normal there. Well, as normal as a town infested with demons and vampires gets anyway," the young woman shrugged. "This was something else, something...personal."

Wes asked delicately, "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"No," Ms. Chase sighed. "And thing is, I don't think anyone can, it's far too late now. See, Willow told me that she just learned that...that Xander hated her. And Buffy. And me..."

Wesley sat down, thinking furiously. He hadn't thought of Xander Harris for over a year now, the dead man being part of a past he preferred not to contemplate. But it was obvious that Cordelia needed major comfort here; and since Angel was absent, the job was his alone.

"As you recall, I never knew him...you know, before," Wyndham-Pryce began awkwardly. "But I know that you and he were together romantically for a while..." he then took her right hand into his own.

Cordelia stared at their hands hollowly. "Six months, yeah. More or less."

Wes took a deep breath, "I've never mentioned this before, but - I heard about what happened with you three and young Mr. Harris, that night during 1998. Quite frankly, I always found it unlikely in the extreme the details of what Mr. Giles told me-"

"Oh, you can believe it alright, because it's all true," Cordelia said, still staring at nothing. "We left him there. *I* left him there. And if Angel hadn't saved Xander's ass, we would have been guilty of murder."

The British man shook his head. "No-"

Cordelia was adamant, though. "Do you wanna know the truth, Wes? Okay, here it is; when I found out what had happened, I freaked out with anger. Xander *lied* to Buffy that day, and I couldn't handle it. I have this thing with regard to liars, you see..."

She paused. "My dad, he used to lie to me and my mom all the time. He lied about his taxes, he lied about his background, and he lied about..." There was another pause, then Cordy said softly, "During my senior year, the freshman princess at Homecoming was this girl called Jennifer Naranjo. And just between us, I got me no doubts from the resemblance alone, that she's my half-sister..."

Wesley honestly had no idea what to say, as Cordelia went on, "That's why I overreacted, and dumped Xander's ass. And why I did nothing to help him that night, either. It's no excuse, I know - it's just the truth. But FYI, the real truth is he hurt me, a lot more than I hurt him."

Something went 'click' inside Wesley's mind. "Good Lord. You were in love with him, weren't you?"

Cordelia's eyes began to moisten again. "Oh, what does it matter now?"

"Cordelia..."

After yet another pause, the young woman eventually nodded. "All right, fine. I'll admit he grew on me, kinda like a Chia pet. Why else do you think I gave it up, to that bastard Wilson? He reminded me of Xander so much. Whatever else may be a lie, I loved my boyfriend - but it was obvious afterwards, he never loved me back the same way. Xander just left me behind, and took up with that skanky 'ho Faith..."

Wes wanted to growl angrily, at hearing his Slayer being denigrated like this. But with both of them dead now, he knew it was pointless to open that can of worms at this late date. Then something occurred to him and Wesley said, "I'll grant you the boy may have been pissed before ending up in that hell dimension, but afterwards...Cordelia, he was a different person then..."

"Yeah, I know," Ms. Chase shrugged. "I actually went to see him at Angel's mansion, once. I thought maybe we could straighten a few things out, you know? But Xander just started screaming in pain, as soon as he saw me. Angel then found us and threw me out - like literally, I landed on my ass on the ground outside! And before he slammed the door in my face, our boss told me to never come back to that place on Crawford Street."

"I never knew any of that," the former "head boy" of the Watcher Academy said in astonishment. "When did all this happen?"

Cordelia thought back, a frown on her beautiful face. "A day or two before Prom, I think. By the way," she smiled at her friend, "I know it's a day late and a dollar short, but thanks for secretly paying for the rest of my Prom dress back then..."

At Wesley's blank look of confusion, the former ruler of Sunnydale High let out a gasp. "You didn't pay for it, did you? Then who did? I mean, nobody knew I was dirt poor at that time..."

Wes had an epiphany. "My God. Xander!" As Cordelia stared at him in disbelief, the guy explained, "Well, who else could it have been? He had to have known, with his future memories..." Then the Englishman said gently to her, "Cordelia, listen to me. Even though Xander may have passed on, I have no doubts that he didn't hate you when he died..."

Then Wes embraced his friend. "Please, pay no attention to what Willow said. Just remember the good and let go of the bad, and cherish the memories you have of the man. If Mr. Harris were here right now, I'm sure he'd tell you the exact same thing."

**Unmarked military airfield near Prague, Czech Republic. The next morning**

Xander finished his breakfast, picking at the last pieces of sausage. The night's sleep had been relaxing, and he felt rested for the trip to the monastery. The other Siberians also seemed to have been refreshed by their slumber, as they finished their breakfasts.

The senior Siberian came in, and handed a folder over to Xander. "Here, something for you to read on the trip up there."

Xander took the file, raising an eyebrow as he did. "What is this? More homework?"

Cleburne shook his head, as he poured himself a cup of coffee. "Nope. You remember when you went to that army base in California and reported for duty, after your time in that hell dimension?"

Xander nodded his head, as he finished off his breakfast. "Yeah, the Officer of the Day thought I was crazy and kicked me outta there."

"Right. Well, he noted the whole thing in his daily report, including the serial number you quoted to him. We dug up that report, and tracked down the file for the serial number. The Wizard sent it over with the stuff from last night. That's it in your hands..."

Xander looked at the file without opening it for several seconds. Cleburne noticed that and started talking, "Don't worry kid, the guy did all right. Donald Grant, he was a Private First Class with the 101st Airborne Division. Jump-trained, and a fair amount of combat training too. Got decorated with a Bronze Star during the Tet Offensive, and was killed in action during 1971 in the Mekong Delta."

Xander started flipping through the pages. The record showed a soldier who was damned good at his chosen profession. "Why was he only a PFC? I figure with this kind of record, he would have been a noncom at some point..."

Cleburne got a plate from the buffet the Czech authorities had arranged for them, and sat down. "Was a few times, yeah, but got demoted almost as fast as he got promoted. Liked barroom brawls." He started to eat the breakfast.

"Barroom brawls? Hall, next time we go bar-hopping I'll have to keep an eye on you," Red joked. By this time, his fellow Siberians knew all about Xander's history - everything about him, except his real name.

"You mean, when you're not eyeballing the waitresses?" Xander joked back.

"I'll have you know that I'm a perfect gentleman, at all times," Red shot back.

A snort of laughter came from both Cleburne and Gunny. Cleburne swallowed the mouthful of eggs he had almost spit out, when he laughed. "Red, remember when I talked to you on the phone when you were at that demon waitress' place? I don't think gentlemen get themselves into positions like that, with women like that."

"Hey, Ametila's a decent young lady - who just happens to have a different skin color to the rest of us!"

Cleburne raised an eyebrow at Red's response. "Anyway, speaking of promotions..." Joshua slid over a wallet to where Xander was sitting. "Here you go, kid, congrats."

Xander opened up the wallet and looked at the documents inside. "What's this?"

"Your papers identifying you as First Lieutenant Alexander L. Hall, U.S. Army Rangers. Keep them handy."

Xander nodded, and put the wallet in his back pocket. "Just outta interest, why Rangers? With all the Marines you guys seem to have in this group, I kinda figured I'd be a Marine also."

"You have to earn the right to be called Marine, Hall," Gunny said matter-of-factly from where he was sitting. "Go through boot camp at Parris Island first, and then we'll see about calling you a Marine."

Xander almost laughed out loud. "Wait a minute, being a Marine has to be earned; but you can throw around the Ranger designation, just like that?"

Cleburne and Gunny looked at each other before Cleburne answered, "Yeah, that's about right."

"Hey!" Graham and Xander said in unison.

"Truth hurts, huh," Cleburne said as he took a drink from his coffee cup.

"Come on, it's not like Hall is asking for anything impressive like being a Navy SEAL," Red joked. He was rewarded by a glare from Cleburne.

"Oh, please! Tell me that this much testosterone isn't the norm with you guys," a female voice said from the doorway.

Xander turned around, and was struck mute for a moment. Because standing right there, was one of the most beautiful women that he had ever seen.

She looked to be in her mid-twenties, and was just a little bit shorter than Xander. She had curly dark hair, and a complexion most models would kill and die for. But her face...

There was a striking resemblance to Faith.

Ever since the First had appeared to him as her in that prison truck of the Watchers, Xander had not allowed himself to think of his ex-girlfriend too often. It hurt too much to do so, and not all of that was due to the conflicting memories.

In this version of history, Faith had become Xander's lover in a better way than in that other world, which over a year ago had just been a quick and meaningless lay for the Chosen One. They had developed a friendship, a real connection first; the Scoobies had sent the junior Slayer to talk to him - and the brunette warrior had recognized the hidden bitterness within the former Zeppo at once, doing her best to drain it out.

Then had come that *bitch* Gwendolyn Post, and both Xander and Angel had warned Faith not to trust her at once - both men getting bad vibes from the evil ex-Watcher. Unfortunately, the rest of the gang had been taken in by her act; and after the shit had hit the fan with the Glove of Myhnegon...that was when Faith had decided Xander had been right all along, and the Scooby reconciliation topic never mentioned again.

But as said, that was long ago and far away now. Xander watched as the woman nodded at the senior Siberian, "Cleburne."

"Weitz," he nodded back at her. Joshua then looked at Xander and the others, "Boys, close your mouths, this is our Israeli friend Rachael Weitz. Weitz, meet Charles "Gunny" Rose, Graham Miller, Mike "Red" Byrne and Alexander Hall - even though I call him kid."

"No nickname for Mr. Miller?" she asked with an upraised eyebrow.

"I'm working on it," Cleburne replied with a shrug.

Weitz turned her dark eyes towards Xander. "Mr. Hall," she said with enough emphasis to show that she knew an alias when she heard one. "You are a *most* interesting person. I've heard many stories about you. I look forward to seeing if they're true or not."

Xander just stared for a few seconds. Cleburne spoke up, "Breathe, kid. Breathe in, and then breathe out. Then say hello to the nice woman."

"Hello," Xander finally managed to get out. He had only felt like this before, when he had seen Buffy and Faith for the first time. The other Siberians in the room also greeted the Israeli observer.

Cleburne finished off his cup of coffee. "Well, let's get this show on the road. Get your gear together, and meet Rachael and me out front in 15 minutes."

**High-security vault, First Millennium Holdings INC. Building, Los Angeles, California. The same time**

The brunette woman lowered herself from the ceiling into the darkened vault, using a rope attached to her body. So far, everything her sources had told her about the security on this job had been right on the money.

{ And the money for the job is going to be quite a pretty sum, } the femme thought, as she touched the floor.

The would-be thief unattached the rope from the harness, and made her way over to the security boxes. { Let's see, it's supposed to be in Box 11874... } She looked at the numbers, until she found the box she was looking for. { Here we go. } She went to work picking the lock.

"Viola!" the woman whispered, as the lock clicked and the door opened. She then reached in, and pulled out the contents. The thief then frowned, once she saw what it was.

{ What the hell? A poster? } She looked in the box. { There's supposed to be a bag of diamonds in here! }

"I'm sorry, Ms. Raiden. But I'm afraid the diamonds you were hired to steal...do not in fact actually exist."

Gwen Raiden turned around quickly, dropping the poster as she did so, to see who was talking to her as the lights in the vault came on. { Damn! I gotta get outta here... }

A middle-aged African-American woman stood in the vault door, as it slowly swung open. As Gwen started to race towards her rope, it suddenly fell completely from the ceiling, making a clattering noise as the hook used to secure it to the ductway in the ceiling hit the floor.

"Ms. Raiden? Please don't try to run off. After all, we have much to talk about."

Gwen looked around for a way out. Several men appeared in every direction she considered. { Better stall for time... }

"What do you want?" the woman struck by lightning over 14 times said, as she began to take off her gloves.

"Ms. Raiden, although I'm sure shaking your hand would be a shocking experience, it is one I would decline at this time," the black woman said, as the men who had entered with her fanned out, clearly ready for any hostile action by the young thief.

The female big shot who had spoken then chuckled. "Oh my, I made a funny. Joshua would have appreciated that. Pity he couldn't be here."

Gwen eyed her carefully. "What do you want?" she asked again.

Esther Marcum pointed towards the poster Gwen had dropped, when the lights had come on. "I believe the poster explains it all."

Gwen looked down, and saw that it was the old military recruiting poster with Uncle Sam pointing at the viewer with the words *I want you* printed underneath. She looked up at Esther.

The STW woman shrugged. "Ms. Raiden, your country needs you."

Gwen shook her head. "Hey, last I heard the draft went out of style, right along with Vietnam."

"Of course. You'll volunteer for this, I've no doubt."

Gwen started tensing her body, to make a break towards the door. { I may be able to get past them and out the door, then I'll get out of town for a while. If not, it's been fun while it lasted. } "Now, why would I do that?"

"Because that way, the government won't feel the need to prosecute and convict you for all the thefts you've committed over the years. They've added up to quite an impressive number, if I do say so myself." Esther paused for a second before she continued, "You must forgive me if I don't seem as polished in my sales pitch, as one might expect. The person we would normally use to recruit someone of your profession is out of the country, and thus unavailable. I'm filling in for him." She nodded at the poster, "The poster was his idea, though."

"Oh great, I get the substitute." Gwen sighed and leaned towards the door.

"Ms. Raiden, please don't try to make a break through the vault door, there are several operatives outside who will stop you. All that it will get you is a needless headache. Besides, we can make it worth your while to listen to us."

"How'd you know I'd be here?" Gwen untensed. { Best to hear them out, then make a break for it. }

"My dear Ms. Raiden, we hired you to steal the diamonds, or what you thought were diamonds. It seemed the best way to get you here, for a job interview. And I must say, we were very impressed with your abilities. This building has a state of the art security system, but if we hadn't been here waiting for you - you would have gotten in and out completely unnoticed."

"Thanks for the compliment, now what do you want? Really."

"For you to become one of the good guys."

**Premsyl Brod Koruna Monastery, Czech Republic. The next morning**

Xander walked along an empty hallway. The trip from Prague had been uneventful, and the train had arrived at the nearest station to the monastery a little bit after lunch. A quick tour of the monastery had confirmed everything Cleburne had said about it; Baroque paintings seemed to be everywhere, along with historical items that seemed to occupy every spare inch of the area the tourists were allowed in.

Which was only about half of the monastery grounds.

When a tourist would 'accidentally' stray from the marked path, a monk would appear and politely but firmly steer them back to the approved zone. The Siberians knew this, as they had 'strayed' several times during their tour.

In ones and twos they had tested the monks' vigilance, and the last time Xander and Rachael had done so as a team. The former Scooby had been forced to admire the fortitude of the holy men, in dealing with Rachael. The flirting she had aimed at one such monk would have cracked the resolve of most men, the teenager Xander had once been included.

She had hinted that she and her 'boyfriend' were interested in seeing the art that was in the off-limits sections.

However, this monk was made of sterner material than that and he'd diverted the two back to the tour group, effortlessly. The tour had ended shortly ended thereafter, and the Siberians had regrouped back at the hotel where they were staying.

A review of the day's tour had helped narrow down the areas of the monastery that might house what they were looking for. They had planned for the next day's activities, aided by satellite photographs of the monastery sent by the child genius Hollins.

When Xander had commented on that, Cleburne had replied, "The Wizard thinks ahead like that all the time, it's what makes him the Wizard."

A plan was quickly devised for Xander to slip into the off-limits part of the monastery, and find the Abbot. He would then somehow convince him that the Key needed to be sent to Sunnydale, in human form. How exactly was up to him.

The Siberians and Rachael would be with a tour group, ready to come to the rescue if Xander signalled for help as the guy would be equipped with a signalling device, for just such an occasion.

So, Xander found himself back in the monastery the next morning. He slipped away from the group, after Rachael provided a distraction; the monk this morning being more susceptible to her charms.

Harris then made his way from the map of the monastery he had memorized, to where they believed the Abbot's office was. He would find the Abbot then.

Or the Abbot would find him. A question in Czech stopped Xander, as a monk stepped out of a doorway in front of him.

The American looked sheepish, "I'm sorry, I don't speak Czech."

The monk looked at him and then switched to English, "I'm sorry, sir. But this part of the monastery is closed to the public. Let me take you back to your tour group," he said with clipped words.

"I'm sorry too, but I have business I need to discuss with your Abbot guy in charge. Am I close to his office?"

"Sir, I'm sorry but the Abbot is unavailable. Perhaps you could call later for an appointment," the monk replied emotionlessly, moving to point Xander back to the tour group.

"Actually, I really need to talk to him right now. It's quite urgent, as it involves the Key. Y'know, great big green blobby thing?"

The monk instantly froze, as Xander finished speaking. He then looked at his companion with more than a trace of fear on his face. { He's wondering if I'm Glory's host, I'll bet, } Harris sighed to himself.

The holy man then seemed to come to a decision. He called out in Czech, and a few seconds later two more monks came running down the hallway. He spoke to them in their native language, and then turned to Xander.

"Please stay here. These brothers will stand by to make sure you are not disturbed. I will be back shortly." With that, the first monk headed off down the hallway in the direction that Xander believed the Abbot's office was is.

"Hey guys," Xander said to the monks now with him. They didn't say anything in response, and just stared at him. "No English I guess, oh well. We'll just have to find something else to pass the time, right?"

Which turned out to be just staring at each other, for the five minutes it took for the first monk to return. He did so, trailing after a middle-aged burly monk hurrying down the hallway towards Xander.

As they approached, the monks slowed down and warily eyed the Californian.

"Hey there!" Xander said simply, waving at the new arrivals.

The Abbot stepped forward slowly. "I'm sorry, young man, but this part of the monastery is closed to the public. You'll have to go back via the route you came."

"Not yet, and will you just forget about trying to get rid of me like I'm a tourist? We got a lot to talk about. The Key, for one," was Xander's reply.

"I don't know this key of which you speak of. Have you perhaps misplaced the keys to your automobile?"

Harris groaned in disbelief. "Uggggh! Look. Don't worry - I'm not Glory, or Glorificus, or the Beast, or whatever the hell you call the enemy around here. I ain't one of her little toad-like lackeys either. No need to fear that from me."

Xander's mention of Glory seemed to worry the monks even more. "Young man, I don't know what-"

But Xander interrupted him. "Come on, Father, or is it Brother? Whatever! I know you have the Key here, which can be used to unlock the interdimensional gateway for Glory to get back home to her hell dimension. You're also worried that said hell-bitch will one day come and use it, too; and in so doing, collapse all the barriers between all the different dimensions out there. Downside being, this would literally cause Hell to come to Earth."

The Abbot, Brother Feodor, swallowed nervously at the young American's words, his nationality obvious from his manner and speech. The holy man quickly went through the options, as to who he might really be.

{ The Beast? Possibly, but she would have already attacked after emerging from her male prison by now. A Knight of Byzantium? No, they would come in force and attack also, not want to talk. A Watcher? They don't know the things this young man is speaking of. Or maybe... }

"You're trying to figure out who I am," Xander said, correctly guessing what was going the Abbot's mind. "Well, like I said, I'm not Glory or any lackey of hers. I'm also not from the Knights of Byzantium. I'm not a Watcher, and you can *really* believe me on that one. I'm not a demon and since it's daytime, I'm obviously not a vampire. Basically, I'm some poor slob who got dealt a really bad hand in life. I'm just trying to make my way through in a repeat of this sorry world, the best that I can."

Brother Feodor's eyes narrowed. Something in the back of his memory was jogged by the choice of words of the young man before him. So he took a big gamble, "My son, please come with me." He led Xander, followed by the other monks, to his office.

**Twenty minutes later**

The Abbot leaned back in his chair, pondering the tale the young visitor to the monastery had told them. "So, you came here to Europe to tell us to send the Key to America - because you sang a song, and the demon who listened to it told you it had to be done?"

Xander nodded his head. "That's what I'm saying. Now I know that it sounds strange, but I assure you that it's not that strange if you just think about it." Xander thought about it for a few seconds. "Okay, I thought about it myself, and it still sounds pretty damn strange! However, it's also the truth."

The monk nodded. "Why you, though? Why were you chosen to send us this message?"

Xander shrugged his shoulders. "Luck of the draw, I guess."

The monk continued on, "And your comment about this world being a repeat? What did you mean by that?"

{ Uh-oh, } the time-displaced former Scooby thought. "Well, you know, it's that, well, it's like this-" Xander stammered for a few seconds before latching onto an answer. "It's like the old saying goes; the more things change, the more they stay the same, y'know?"

The monk raised an eyebrow at that, as he looked at Xander. "My son, listen carefully. We are not as isolated here in our monastery as you might think. We hear things here. Friends of ours tell us of the world outside these walls. We do this, so as to warn ourselves if Glorificus should ever find us..."

Brother Feodor paused for a moment. "However, other stories reach us here as well. They range from the mundane - I'm told several of my brothers are now intense fans of the soap opera 'Passions' - to the fantastic. The tales of the vampire Slayer have reached us before now." He paused for another second. "As have the tales of a friend of a Slayer, who is from the future. A lost soul, and cursed with the knowledge of what is to come."

Xander shifted uncomfortably in the wooden chair he was sitting in. He wondered how much of this conversation the microphone strapped to his knee was transmitting, was audible to Cleburne who was with the tour group nearby, listening in through his earpiece. It had been the only way the senior Siberian had agreed to let Xander try to infiltrate the monastery hierarchy all alone.

The Abbot regarded Xander calmly, as he sat in silence. "Perhaps, my son, we would find it easier to do as you ask if you saw fit to trust us. After all, you are asking us to make a very large leap of faith. It is only fitting you show us the same faith."

Xander made a quick decision. { Cleburne is definitely going to freak. Ah well, can't be helped. I wonder if he'll catch himself, before he starts cussing in front of the monks? } He then took a deep breath and started talking.

**Thirty seconds later**

"God damn it!" Cleburne suddenly yelled out, shocking the people standing near him. A string of foul curses then poured out of his mouth.

Most of the tourists near him, at least those that understood the words that he was saying, moved away from the guy after casting wary glances in his direction.

The other Siberians, with one exception, tensed themselves ready for action. Gunny, on the other hand, after the first curse just smiled and relaxed. "Stand down, people. If there was anything seriously wrong, he'd already be halfway there to wherever Hall is..."

Gunny turned to Cleburne, as the cussing slowly became a noise that resembled the growling of a dog. "So what did Hall do now?"

Cleburne listened for a few seconds before answering, "He and the head monk of this place are talking. And the kid is being a little too friendly with all the facts!"

"Is it working?" Gunny asked with an innocent look on his face.

Cleburne looked at his old comrade. "Don't give me that innocent look. I know all about your family back in Philly. There's nothing innocent about either you or them!"

The look on Gunny's face didn't change. "So, it's working?"

Cleburne grimaced. "Yeah, sounds like it is anyway."

"Then how about you calm down and just trust in the lieutenant's instincts, Colonel?" Gunny turned around, and examined one of the Baroque paintings on the wall. "Nice picture."

"Oh, what the hell. I can always kill the kid later!" Cleburne turned and started examining the paintings along the wall. The two monks that had been drawn to the scene made their way back to their duties, satisfied that the situation was back to normal.

**Fifteen minutes later**

The Abbot leaned back in his chair, examining the young man in front of him. "My son, that is quite an incredible tale."

Xander shrugged. "Well, some people have interesting lives. Some people have strange lives. Yours truly, on the other hand, has an interesting strange life that has some serious weirdness and heartache about it."

"One can only imagine," the middle-aged monk replied. "So now, your trip has brought you here to us, and our burden."

"It's taken me many places, Father. This is just the latest in a long string of them."

"Indeed. Now, let us speak frankly; do you honestly swear in the name of God the Father, that the Beast is truly no more?"

Xander nodded at once. "The man born as Ben Maxwell was Glory's vessel. I killed him back in 1999, as painlessly as I could. No one's got anything more to fear, on that score."

The monk crossed himself. "This day will be long remembered, Alexander Harris, I can promise you that much. And may the good Lord forgive me, but I truly desire to celebrate his death..." Then he looked up. "And you say you remember the Key as a human, from the future. You are concerned about your own health, if we don't send it to this Buffy and Joyce Summers?"

Xander shrugged. "I don't want to die from the headaches, Father. Selfish of me, maybe, but there you have it."

Brother Feodor sighed. "We know of the Slayer you described to me. As I said earlier, we know many things here. You tell me we can trust this Slayer to protect the Key in human form. Why, though? You yourself just said she abandoned you in the street, and you would have died had the vampire with a soul not been there to intervene."

Xander froze at the monk's question. { Sound battle strategy. The battalion commander does have a point. Restrategize and redeploy, } the voice of Soldier Guy whispered in his mind.

Then another voice started whispering in his head. { Well, why does Dawn *need* to be sent to Buffy, anyway? Just 'cause Lorne said so? How about Kennedy, though? She's a Slayer now. She could protect her little sister just as well as Buffy could. Or the monks could send her to the Fang Gang in LA? Or even the Siberians. Maybe Hollins could have a big sister! }

Xander inwardly shivered at that. { No, not the Siberians. Forget that, I would have those damn brain seizures all the time then... }

He looked around, and saw the head monk of the Order of Dagon was still staring at him. Memories of Kennedy came to mind, as Xander considered her for the role of Dawn's sister. { No, what I am thinking? The Watchers would eventually get their hands on her! They want to 'study' me. What kind of studying would the Council do on Dawnie? } Xander inwardly shivered again at the thought.

{ Angel's Fang Gang? } No, that was too risky; he remembered that Angelus was destined to appear again in a few years, and Willow would go to LA to re-ensoul him. Besides, that soulless vamp had slaughtered his original family. What might he do with the Key? Something that could bring about Hell on Earth? Heck, Angelus had already tried that before, so there was no reason to give him a second opportunity.

{ Guess that leaves Buffy, } Xander decided. He thought about the future memories, and his own personal opinions of the girl. Buffy Summers had gone all out for Dawn, sacrificing her life at the last moment to save both her little sister and the world.

{ She's undisciplined. Uncontrolled. Doesn't respond well to the chain of command, } the soldier's voice suddenly whispered in Xander's head. He then smiled, as he realized what that meant.

"No, Buffy's the one to send her to. Never mind my issues with her; the point is she'll tell anyone who comes for Dawn to damn well go to hell. No matter if it's a hellgod, the Watchers Council or even the President of the United States."

Xander took a breath and continued on, "What she did to me was horrible, maybe even unforgivable. But still, I can't believe she'd do anything like that to someone she thinks is her own flesh and blood. Her issues were with me, so I don't think she'll transfer them to anyone else."

"Dawn? That's what the Key would be called, once moulded into human flesh?"

"Yeah. Quite the little brunette spitfire she was, too. However, maybe you could be kind enough to-" Xander stopped in mid-sentence. He'd been about to ask the monks to make Dawn a lot less whiny...

But then a smile spread across his face. { Why make things that easy on Buffy and the others? After all, I do owe the Slayer *quite* a bit of payback. } "Never mind. Why mess with perfection? Just do whatever you guys were planning to do - y'know, before."

The monk regarded Xander for a second. "You trust the Slayer with your life?"

"Not at all," Xander quickly replied. "Not with *my* life, anyway. However, I would trust her with Dawn's life."

The Abbot sat in contemplative silence for about a minute. He then reached out to his desk, and picked up a bell that was on it. His ringing it brought the three monks, who had been hovering outside his office.

Brother Feodor spoke to them in Czech. The one who had found Xander originally said something back in a questioning tone. The Abbot just replied in a soothing voice. Whatever he said obviously satisfied the monks, as they left the office.

The Abbot turned back to Xander. "The preparations will take a while. In the meantime, I can hear your confession."

Xander frowned. "I'm an Episcopalian, Father, not Catholic."

"Not to worry, my son. God can forgive all souls."

**The Art Gallery. A moment later **

Cleburne cussed under his breath. "Oh come on, kid. I do *not* want to hear all about your sins!"

**Dracula's castle, Sunnydale, California. August, 2000**

"Haven't you ever wondered what it is we fight for?" Dracula said as he cut the skin on his left wrist, and blood started to trickle out of it. "Never even wondered what it tasted like?" He held his arm forward to the enthralled Buffy. "Taste it."

Buffy moved her lips to where the blood was, and started to suck on his wrist. Her heartbeat quickened, as she tasted it. Powerful images started flashing through her mind. Images of vampires, demons, the First Slayer. Her eyes snapped shut, then flew right back open.

"Wow," she said. Buffy then punched Dracula hard in the chest, blasting him across the room. "That was kind of gross."

Dracula clambered back up to his feet. "Come here!" he commanded the enemy. When she failed to do so, old Vlad looked at her with confusion. "You are no longer in my thrall."

Buffy smirked at the soulless vampire. "Let's just say the thrall's gone out of our relationship..."

She advanced on him. "You know, I've had a rough couple of days recently. You turned my boyfriend into a simpering lackey of yours, who loves to eat live spiders and beetles, and let me tell you he's not kissing me again with that mouth until he's done some *majorly* heavy-duty brushing and gargling. My mom has been bugging me to work at the gallery with her during my spare time; something about taking it over some day - like trés yuck. I've had some very unpleasant memories about a horrible sin I committed dredged up..."

The Chosen One tilted her head to left, and examined the famous vampire in front of her. "So, bottom line, I'm really looking forward to blowing off some steam - by kicking your ass!"

With that, the blonde Champion launched an attack against her opponent. And Dracula was instantly catapulted over the table from the force of Buffy's first kick. Buffy quickly followed up, launching herself at the dazed famous vampire, leaping up and landing on the table.

Dracula managed to get his bearings, just in time to receive a kick to the face. He staggered back for a second, before recovering and punching Buffy as she jumped off of the table at him.

She fell back, as Dracula pressed his advantage. Hitting the ground, she quickly found that the soulless vampire was on top of her. Pushing off with her feet, she flipped over and wound up pinning Dracula to the floor. Buffy quickly launched a succession of punches against her opponent.

"Enough!" he roared, as the Drac-man pushed up with all his strength. Buffy fell back against the table, as Dracula rose to his feet. He quickly punched with enough strength to send her flying across the room.

The vampire advanced towards her, and then stopped. For Buffy had regained her feet, and grabbed something from the wall. That something happened to be a torch; and since vampires were really allergic to fire, Dracula backed up.

"Word of advice. Someone like you, should really consider electric." Buffy started towards the vampire with the best PR machine in the undead world.

Dracula bolted and ran from her, turning into a cloud with his showy gypsy magicks as he did so. Buffy followed the path the mist was travelling, and quickly dropped the torch. She then ran forward, grabbing the stake that had been laying on the table during the fight.

She then leapt up, using her Slayer strength to arrive on the balcony scant seconds before the mist that was Dracula became a solid vampire again. Ms. Summers then struck with the stake, driving it straight into Dracula's chest as he materialized.

A look of disbelief and shock came to Dracula's centuries-old face as he fell backwards onto the staircase, his body exploding into dust as he hit the ground. Buffy then sighed and turned around. She walked down the stairs, idly noting the dust that had been the vampire foremost in the public mind.

Giles and Jonathan Levinson ran into the room, weapons at the ready. "Buffy, are you all right?" Rupert managed to get out, despite being out of breath.

Buffy nodded. "I'm fine."

"And Dracula?"

Buffy kicked at the dust beneath her feet. "Dusted." She then noticed Jonathan behind Giles, "What the hell's he doing here?" she demanded, recalling that this guy had been the one who'd told Tara about Xander.

"Buffy," Giles cautioned her. "Please. He was most helpful, and provided sorely needed backup by saving me from three female vampires, a-a few minutes ago."

Buffy placed her hands on her hips, and glared at Giles. "What about Willow and Tara?"

"I, uh, I couldn't find them, and time w-was of the essence."

"Anya?"

"Buffy, for heaven's sake, you heard the woman talking about how proud she was of Dracula commending her on her curses. Do you really think it wise for me to have relied upon *her* for backup, against that blasted vampire?"

Buffy visibly pouted for a second as Giles continued, "Not to mention i-i-it would have reckless in the extreme to come here alone, as evidenced by what happened to you."

Buffy crossed her arms as Giles reproached her. "Just so you know, I did not come alone. I came with Jeff, and...oh! Jeff!" Buffy suddenly shouted, as she remembered her boyfriend.

"Come on, come on, we gotta find him!" She ran out of the room, followed closely by the two males who had just arrived. A quick search of nearby rooms turned up Jeff in what had originally passed as the kitchen. He was sitting in a chair, leaning over and quite energetically throwing up.

"Jeff?" Buffy said hesitantly.

The college boy looked at his girlfriend. "Could, could someone explain to me just what's happened here? This really weird dude shows up and stares real hard at me, and the next thing I know I'm chowing down on bugs!" He wiped his mouth with a cloth that was on the table next to him.

"Come on, sweetie, lemme take you home..." Buffy patted him on the back, as both she and Giles helped her boyfriend to his feet. Buffy just glared at Jonathan, though. { Yeah, we have some things to talk about. Soon! }

Jonathan gulped, knowing the look being sent his way. { Mental note to self, avoid being left alone with Buffy for the foreseeable future... }

**Premsyl Brod Koruna Monastery, Czech Republic**

Brother Feodor reviewed his notes, in preparation of the ritual to turn the Key into its human form. He had written these pages many years ago, when the threat of Glory finding the Key had been fully grasped. He had originally hoped never to have to use the ritual...

But that had been before the young American had arrived. Now, given that the pressing need was gone, the monk was actually looking forward to carrying out the procedure. { I imagine this is what expectant fathers must feel, before the birth of their child, } Brother Feodor thought with a self-indulgent smile.

For that was how the Abbot viewed the Key. As his child, for it *was* alive - albeit living energy. He had overseen its care ever since assuming his duties years ago, and had come to view it in a paternalistic manner. Now like any father, he was somewhat sad about his offspring going out alone into the world, away from home.

{ I can't help wondering though what we'll do now in the Order, given our ancient task is finally complete, } he thought idly. { Our lives will feel very different, without the Key to watch over. Well, but we are Christian monks first and foremost - so I am sure the good Lord will provide something. }

As he finished reviewing the notes, a thought came to mind. { That young American. Mr. Harris. Yes, that would be just and fitting. } He quickly made some minor but vital changes to the ritual...

**Apartment B, 523 Oak Park Street, Sunnydale, California**

Jeff came out of the bathroom in Giles' apartment, vigorously brushing his teeth and still having a freaked look on his face.

Buffy looked on with concern; on the way here, the ex-Watcher and herself had explained about Sunnydale's unique nightlife. And the young man had been *very* quiet afterwards. "Are you all right, honey?" she asked.

Jeff held up his free hand, as he leaned back into the bathroom and spit into the sink. He had been brushing his teeth and rinsing his mouth out more-or-less the entire time, ever since they had gotten to the British man's condo. And that had been long enough for the sun to start rising.

Buffy's boyfriend rinsed out his mouth again, before speaking. "So let me get this straight," he took a breath before continuing. "Vampires are real?" 

Buffy nodded as Jeff continued, "And you're some kind of superhero who fights the demons around here? The Chosen One."

Buffy nodded again.

"And Sunnydale is some kind of supernatural magnet to vampires and the other monsters in this world."

The Slayer nodded, "Yeah, we're living on a Hellmouth, which means-"

Jeff waved his hand, interrupting Buffy. "And that was the real Dracula, who hypnotized me into becoming his real-life Renfield - so's to get at you?"

Buffy cast her eyes downward and answered with a soft voice, "Yeah, see, I was afraid to tell you before because-"

Jeff again interrupted her, "I, I, I need to think about this, and I have an early class, a 'really' early class. I cannot stress the earliness enough here. So, I'm, I'm going to go to my dorm room..." He started walking towards the door, with a slightly dazed look on his face. "Buffy? We'll talk later on tonight."

The blonde Slayer followed him until he left the apartment, hoping that Jeff would say something else. But he didn't.

Buffy watched the door close. As it did, she detected some movement out of the corner of her eye. So the college freshman turned quickly and spoke loudly, secretly thankful for the distraction from the Jeff situation, "JONATHAN!"

"Eeep!" He almost jumped when he heard Buffy's voice. Levinson had almost made it into the kitchen unobserved, while Giles was upstairs; and the teenager visibly gulped as he turned to face the Slayer, absolutely sure he was facing certain doom. "Yeah, Buffy?"

"I heard you've been talking to Tara. Telling her things about our high school days. So answer me this; were you spying on us back then, or what?" the young woman said with her arms crossed, a fierce look on her face.

Jonathan shook his head at once. "NO! No, no, not at all. I just blend into the background, remember? It's just, no one notices me-"

"Then how did you know Xander told the three of us to go to hell, the first day of the senior year?"

"Buffy, I - okay. Look, you guys, the next day you had this loud heated conversation, in the middle of the school cafeteria. I was less than ten feet away from all of you. How could I *not* hear what was being said? I betcha the entire student body heard the four of you tear into one another. It was all over the school for the first few weeks, the biggest gossip of the year!"

Buffy silently reflected on that. "I don't - I, look, I-I can't handle thinkin' about that right now, I just want to know one thing."

"What?" Jonathan said with an apprehensive look on his face.

"Is it true?"

The subject of her query looked confused. "Huh?"

"Did Xander hate all three of us? And I mean not just incredibly angry with us - but, like, really 'hate our guts' hate us?"

Jonathan didn't want to die. "Well, I'm sure that...you have to understand...it was sorta like this..." he temporized, until Buffy snapped.

"IS IT TRUE, DAMN IT?"

The short nerd looked ashamed as he answered, "Yes."

"I see. I, I have to go..."

And with that Buffy exited through the same door that her boyfriend had used, a few minutes before.

**Thirty miles outside Vienna, Austria. Three hours later**

General Gregor of the Knights of Byzantium made his way into his private chambers, after a hard afternoon's training with his junior officers. { I'm getting old. Time was, the youngsters wouldn't have caught me by surprise like that today, } he thought with a hidden smile.

Actually, things had been pretty quiet recently. There had been no reports of insanity that could be traced back to Glorificus, for over a year. The General didn't know what to make of that.

{ The Beast has to be out there somewhere. After all, hell goddesses do not just vanish into thin air, } Gregor thought to himself. { Perhaps if we change our method of searching? Stop focusing completely on finding the male host that the damned thing was imprisoned within, all those years ago... }

"General?"

He whirled around, and saw one of the clerics had arrived into his domicile. A man in black robes, that in another world would have been called Heckle or Jeckle by Willow Rosenberg. "What is it?" the head Knight snapped.

"There is urgent news," the holy man said. "The Key is being moved; a translocation spell will take place, if it has not done so already. The instrument of doom will be pure energy no longer..."

Gregor shuddered at hearing that. { The Key? Those fool monks are moving it? Hiding it in another form? } "Where?" he managed to say.

The cleric shrugged. "My informant did not know. All Father Caleb said was that the forces of evil have tricked its guardians, to sending it out into the world..."

Gregor stood and stared into space for a few seconds, until his training kicked in. He strode out of the room in a big hurry, bellowing for his attendants as the black-clad priest followed him.

All the while, someone who looked like Faith was observing from a darkened corner of the room, an evil smile playing across her face.

**The private office of Lilah Morgan, Wolfram & Hart building, Los Angeles, California. That afternoon**

Lilah rubbed her eyes, as the last week or so had been pretty hard on the senior associate. Contrary to popular theory, she hadn't really expected the government to simply cough up and produce Xander Harris, just because a lawsuit had been filed...

More realistically, she had hoped that the pressure would force the government to do something that would give the firm's SWAT teams the opportunity to surprise them, and procure the so-called teenager - a man that had become a mythic legend nowadays, throughout the underworld.

But things hadn't even gotten to that point. Whoever it was that was protecting the Harris kid, they had much more power than she had expected. And the Senior Partners hadn't been happy about learning that, at all.

Luckily, she had avoided getting into too much trouble. The Senior Partners had been distracted recently with Lindsey MacDonald's plan against Angel with Darla. So they had allowed Lilah to implement her fallback plan.

And the prospects of the fallback plan had been enough to save her job and skin. Thus Lilah looked over at the small crystal ball that was set up on the conference table in her office.

It amazed her that the firm had found it being used by a fortune teller, in a travelling carnival in Texas. And the woman clearly hadn't known what she had been using in her act. Otherwise, she wouldn't have been living from day to day that way. { 'Course, now she doesn't live at all. Well, boo-hoo for her. }

"Soon," Lilah whispered. "Soon, everything will be ready. I promise you..." She then just stared at the Orb.

**1630 Revello Drive, Sunnydale, California. That night**

"Buffy! Willow and Tara are here," Joyce called up the stairs.

In response, Buffy Summers came down the stairs. Willow and Tara looked up as she did, and were immediately struck by how dejected she looked.

"That bad?" Willow said while cringing.

"Jeff and I had a talk this afternoon. It did not go well," Buffy said, leaving out the second reason she felt so depressed.

Willow moved to comfort her best friend. "Oh sweetie, it'll be okay. I'm sure that he'll come around-"

Buffy shook her head. "Yeah, I don't think so. He had brochures for Princeton, USC and Yale on the coffee table, and he was examining them real carefully just before I looked back while walking out the door."

Willow hugged Buffy tightly. "That's it. We came by to cheer you up, and y'know, that's what we're gonna do so. Come on, you're coming with us to a movie."

Buffy shook her head again. "No, I just want to stay home and-"

Willow firmly grasped Buffy by her shoulders, and looked at her square in the face. "Look. I've got my resolve face on. No one can stand up to my resolve face, remember?"

Buffy laughed in spite of herself. "Okay. Just lemme get my coat." With that, she turned around and went back up the stairs. She went into her old room, and was faced with a brunette teenage girl standing there.

"What are you doing here?" the Slayer demanded.

Just then, Joyce's voice floated from downstairs. "Buffy, if you're going to the movies, why don't you and your friends take Dawn with you?"

At which both Buffy and Dawn Summers shouted in unison, "MOM!"

**Prague, Czech Republic. The next night**

Xander took a gulp of the beer that Red had just put on the table in front of him. The taste was not what he was used to, from drinking beer in the United States. The other Siberians partook in the drinks they had just been given too.

The trip back from the monastery had gone quickly. When they'd arrived back at the airfield they had started out from, a police official from Prague had been waiting for them. He'd looked decidedly uncomfortable...

Because the cop had come to ask for their help. He was a modern man, a man of science and reason. However, what was happening in his city was something which science and reason had not prepared him for. Something that couldn't be explained...except by going back to the old ways, and the old beliefs of his people.

So he had come to see these foreigners, of whom already various police forces across Europe were whispering strange tales about. Whispers that if you had something which couldn't be explained, they were the ones to ask for help and/or advice.

So the Siberians, along with their Israeli observer, had gone into Prague to see what they could do. They had done a good bit of work, too.

A nest of vampires preying on the homeless of Prague had been established, and then they had killed a couple of tourists. The Czech government had noticed that, and thus the Siberians had been called in.

Cleburne and his people had managed to track down the nest, from just an afternoon's worth of work. And careful planning and preparation had led to the nest being dealt with, in under an hour. These vampires hadn't been expecting the level of opposition that had introduced itself into their lair, and thus had paid for that with their un-lives.

Afterwards, the Siberians had gone to do their post-mission tradition at a small bar in downtown Prague. They had been at the bar now for almost three hours.

Three hours during which Rachael Weitz had given her undivided attention, to the one and only Xander Harris.

Had he been a normal 23-year-old, Xander would have been thrilled to death. A woman who could easily have doubled as an international supermodel, looking at him that way? It was the stuff of his almost-forgotten teenage fantasies.

Of course, nothing was normal about Xander anymore. And his dreams didn't feature running along the beach with luscious "Baywatch" babes these days; they featured him being tortured in Hell.

An evil preacher tearing his left eye out.

Three women he once would have died for, looking at him with contempt while he lay on the street.

In any case Harris was faced with the relentless attention of a beautiful secret agent, who resembled his dead girlfriend, and who was fully aware of the fact that he had the future of the world for the next three years locked away in his head. That certainly called into question her motivations for her attention to the former Scooby.

And that also kind of put a damper on the evening's charm for Xander. Still, it was a chance to unwind; and so, he grabbed it with both hands.

"Gunny, points to you for finding us a normal bar. Well, somewhat normal bar anyway," Cleburne said, looking around.

The other patrons of the establishment looked to be of the type who had long criminal histories. An hour or two ago, some of them had tried to infringe onto the Siberians' table; and Xander suspected what they really wanted was to make time with Rachael. { Talk about being desperate to score! }

They had never even gotten the chance to talk to her though, quickly ending up unconscious. And so their example had given the other patrons ample reason not to harass this particular table.

Xander felt the need to answer the call of nature, which was not surprising considering what he had been doing the past three hours. He stood up, "I'll be back in a minute."

Rachael suddenly stood up also. "I'll come with you, I need to use the facilities too," she continued chatting up Xander, as they walked to the back of the bar.

As they arrived in the corridor that led to the restrooms, they passed an emergency exit. Suddenly, Xander felt himself slammed against the doorway; and he heard Rachael shouting out, as the door shattered under his weight...

Xander hit the ground of the alley behind the bar hard, his left shoulder screaming in pain. He tried to get up, only to have his attacker punch him back down to the ground. Xander finally got a look at him, and saw a face that was fully vamped out. The undead creature shouted and cursed at Xander, in Czech.

Harris didn't understand a word, but the tone was clear. { I bet he's from the nest, and is all upset about all of his playmates being dust, } Xander thought cynically, as he tried to get up and defend himself from the vamp.

At that moment, a man of small stature turned the corner into the alley and saw what was going on. { Vampire. Trying to feed on some poor slob, with his girlfriend as dessert, } he thought as Rachael ran into the alley.

Suddenly, the red-haired man stiffened. { What's that scent? I know it, I know I do! But - but it can't be him! } He watched as the vampire blocked a punch that Xander threw, and lowered his head to feed on him. And at that moment, the new arrival felt his self-control slip and the transformation take hold of him.

Rachael was prepared to attack the vampire, when she suddenly heard an animal roar. The noise caused the enraged undead to pause and look up, too.

To be promptly bowled over by a large, furry beast. The bloodsucker flew several feet across the alley, coming to rest against the wall opposite the emergency exit.

Xander looked up at his savior. "Whoa!" he called out, as he started to scoot away as quickly as he could. { Werewolf! }

The werewolf, standing between Xander and the Siberians who had come in response to Rachael's shout, glanced at him - and then turned its attention to the vampire.

The vamp started to get up, but the werewolf didn't give it the opportunity to recover. It leapt upon the undead creature, and tore into it with abandon. It was a damn short struggle, too.

When the head was torn off and the soulless demon nothing but dust, the supernatural wolf turned its gaze back towards Xander, and started ambling towards him.

So Cleburne and the other Siberians started to move in on the werewolf. "Shit," the USMC colonel cursed. "If that's what I think it is? Someone please tell me they have silver bullets!"

"No!" Xander cried out. "There's a human being in there. We can't kill him or her just like that-"

At the sound of the voice, the werewolf stopped and stared at Xander for a couple of seconds. Suddenly the fur and fangs disappeared, as the werewolf transformed into...

...a very naked Daniel "Oz" Osbourne.

"Xander?" he asked uncertainly. But then he thought, { Oh yeah. It's him, that scent is unmistakable! } Oz suddenly hugged his old comrade-in-arms.

Cleburne looked on and suddenly commented, "You know, the funny part is I'm not too freaked out about having the werewolf turn into a man. But I'm weirded out by the fact that the kid is being hugged by a naked guy!"

TBC...


	10. Chapter 10

**Part Ten**

**Alleyway behind the seedy bar, Prague, Czech Republic. August 2000, a few moments previously**

Cleburne looked on and suddenly commented, "You know, the funny part is I'm not too freaked out about having the werewolf turn into a man. But I'm weirded out by the fact that the kid is being hugged by a naked guy!"

Xander heard Cleburne's statement, and instantly felt himself getting red with embarrassment. { Hey, focus! It's Oz! This is bad. Real bad! } his brain then started yammering in panic mode.

Not feeling any immediate pain, Harris did some quick calculations in his head as to when Oz had been in Sunnydale. He quickly concluded that his former classmate had already been there, and broken up with Willow for good. { Whew, that's one worry lessened. Still - better do something to try and fix this, though. }

So Xander pushed Oz back. "Hey, man, knock it off. What are you doing? You just can't go around hugging strangers!" he said, trying to alter his voice so as not to be recognized.

"Oh for cryin' out loud, would someone please get a coat or something for this guy? I'm still getting weirded out here by naked guy hugging!" Cleburne snarled, trying to avert his gaze, while at the same time wanting to make sure everything was all right. So Graham headed back into the bar at Cleburne's comment.

Rachael grinned and quipped from the doorway, "So, Mr. Hall, anything you want to share with us...about your choice of lifestyle?"

Xander glared at the Israeli agent. "Hey, lady, I don't know what's going on. Some guy I've never seen before changes from a big wolf into a naked man, who hugs me. What do you expect me to say?!" Xander tried glaring at Oz, while at the same time trying to hide his face.

"Xander, what are you doing? What is all this? Because I know it's you! You haven't changed your scent, on account of nothing can ever change that. We have to call Willow and the others-"

The red-haired guy was interrupted by Graham Miller coming back, and handing him a large overcoat. The werewolf took the overcoat and put it on, "Hey, thanks..."

Cleburne looked around at the small crowd that was gathering, attracted by the noise and commotion from the fight a few moments before. He was inwardly cursing and barely restraining himself from cursing out loud, "Listen up, people. Let's clear this up later. For now, I think we need to clear out of here before animal control shows up!"

**Stedman Medical Building, Sunnydale, California. Thirty minutes later**

"Hello, I'm Joyce Summers. I'm here to see Dr. Adams?"

The nurse nodded at the woman in response. "Yes, ma'am. Please fill out these forms..." She handed over a clipboard. "We need for you to update your records. Just make any changes we need to be aware of."

"Thank you."

Joyce took the clipboard, and went to sit down next to the person who had driven her here. She started to look over the papers in dismay, "All this, just because I went a year or two without seeing a doctor. I swear, my wrist is going to be completely sore from all the writing on forms I've done the past few weeks!"

"Well, it's, um, it's better than the alternative," Giles quipped, as he stared to polish his glasses.

Joyce sent him a quick smile. "True enough. I need to start realizing what's at stake here. It still feels a little unreal, though."

"Indeed. I-I-I can only imagine what it must feel like, knowing the date of-" Giles' voice cut off, as he was afraid to say the next word.

"It's all right, Rupert, you can say it. The date of my death. And it's *very* weird, knowing the exact date it's supposed to happen. Like something out of the Twilight Zone..." She flipped to the second page on the clipboard. "Sometimes when I wake up, I fool myself into thinking it was all just a bad nightmare, at least for a few seconds. Then, on my nightstand, I see it. And that quickly brings me back to reality."

Giles didn't have to ask to know what *it* was. It was the time-delayed letter the deceased Xander Harris had sent him. He knew that the mother of the two Summers girls had been using it as some kind of anchor, for what was going on in her life. And the British man inwardly shivered, when he recalled that more letters had been promised. { Lord only knows what bombshells they'll contain. }

"Joyce, I know I have no right to ask...but how are you holding up?" Giles asked in a soothing tone.

Joyce sighed, beating down the frustration she felt at the question. As the middle-aged blonde knew she would have to get used to people asking things like that, once her condition became public knowledge. "How do you think? I'm...doing the best I can. I'm just glad that I got all the money and business things taken care of. Now I can concentrate on the medical part of my life."

"What about Buffy and Dawn? How much do they know?"

"Oh, they don't really suspect anything. I think my behavior recently - well, they just attributed it to the fact that I'm *old*. Teenagers..." She used her fingers as quotation marks when she said old. "The problem is, Buffy really seems to not want to work at the gallery. And I can't just come out and say I want her to learn the ropes, because I want her to take over if something happens to me."

"You'll have to tell them at some point. And as a neutral third party, perhaps I should-"

Joyce shook her head. "No, I don't want them to panic, at least not for a while longer. I'll tell them when the doctors tell me something. That way, I can avoid telling them how I knew all about it in advance and they'll just assume that the doctors caught it early. Because God knows I don't want Dawn picking a fight with Buffy over Xander *again*! I thought for a while there, I was going to have to send one of them to boarding school, they were at each other's throats so often..."

Giles nodded. "I remember how Dawn w-was quite vocal about the situation involving young Mr. Harris, 12 years old or otherwise."

Joyce nodded. "She still is. Whenever the subject comes up, which happens pretty rarely nowadays thank God, she refuses to admit he's dead and nothing anyone says can convince her otherwise. I just don't want to throw anymore gasoline onto that fire..." She paused for a second. "Rupert, I just wanted to let you know...that I really appreciate you driving me here. Also, all the other stuff you've been doing. It's good to have someone who knows what's going on, to help out."

Giles smiled at the mother of the Slayer. "No need to thank me, Joyce. It's, uh, the least I can do."

Joyce returned Giles' smile in a sad way. "You may not want to say that, considering what else I may ask from you."

"Anything you need. Ask away," Giles took her hands in his.

"Oh, you'll regret that!" Joyce took a deep breath. "Given how Hank is only God knows where and can't be contacted, I want to ask your permission to set up some legal stuff, so that if we can't stop this...you'll be the one watching over Buffy and Dawns' affairs."

"But, but Buffy's a legal adult now, a-a-and Dawn's 14 years old. Your eldest can do anything I could to take care of your little girl, surely..."

Joyce shook her head. "I know, I'm not talking about you being a parental guardian to them. I want you to, ah, take care of their financial and business matters. Either one of them would be overwhelmed, if they had to deal with it all."

The former Ripper got a firm look on his face. "Joyce Summers, you listen to me. We're going to beat this - this nightmare, that Xander warned us about. I'm going to be by your side for as long as it takes, to make sure you live to horribly spoil your grandchildren. You're going to get better. And you have my word on that," Giles replied forcefully.

Joyce was about to reply, when the nurse opened the sliding glass window to the waiting room. "Mrs. Summers? The doctor will see you now."

**Unmarked military airfield near Prague, Czech Republic**

Xander and Oz sat across from each other in the VIP lounge, at the military airbase that the Siberians had been based out ever since arriving in the country. The vehicle had been a quiet one, during the trip back.

Oz had tried to start a conversation a few times, but each time Cleburne had not-so-subtly suggested that any and all questions could wait, until they got to a secure area. Xander had used that time for recovering from the slight drunkenness - without which that damn vamp probably would've been staked without muss or fuss, in his humble opinion.

Once back at the base - Xander, Oz, Cleburne and Gunny had headed towards the lounge. The others had made themselves scarce, just from a Look sent by the senior Siberian. Xander and Oz had sat down around the conference table in the lounge, while Cleburne had fixed a pot of coffee. All the while, Gunny stood silently outside the entrance to the lounge, faithful watchdog that he was.

Cleburne placed a cup of coffee in front of both of the former residents of Sunnydale. He then got a cup for himself, and sat down on the couch close to the table. He took a drink, and waited to see what would happen.

Xander looked at Oz, and thought for a second about not saying anything. { No, that's not going to work. Oz'll just outwait me, and we both know he can do it. }

Even though Xander had gained in the ability to maintain his composure since his days in Sunnydale High School - Oz, excepting his performance earlier that night, was still the unquestioned king when it came to maintaining an appearance of calm despite everything going on around him.

"Oz-" Harris said abruptly.

"Xander," Oz interrupted. "Long time no see. Not wanting to sound too much like my grandmother, but you never call, you never write..."

Xander inwardly winced, recalling that in the past that had never happened, he had said something very similar to his werewolf companion. "I imagine you have questions," the former slave said, resigning himself to what was about to happen.

"Several," Oz said in an even voice.

"Ask away, then," Xander shrugged.

"Within reason, of course," Cleburne interjected.

Oz just glanced at the male secret agent, then turned back to Xander. "How?"

"How what? Can you narrow it down a bit here for me, ol' buddy?"

"Graduation. You, big snake, bigger fireball. Why aren't you charbroiled ashes?" Oz asked point-blank. "Not that I'm complaining or anything," the 20-year-old guy quickly added, in response to the look on Xander's face.

"Tunnels under the school, you remember - the ones Angel used to use? Got to them before the big fireworks. The Mayor couldn't fit, so we wound up with crispy-fried snake meat and a big victory parade."

"So you didn't stick around, because you decided to help us that day?" Oz observed.

"Actually, I - it was...complicated," Xander said, with an ashamed look on his face.

"Don't worry. I score well on tests. Helped a lot when I didn't study, during senior year."

Harris looked away, guessing what would come even at this early stage. "Well, you know how I had trouble being around you guys."

"I know you avoided us, like a you-know-what avoids sunlight," Oz glanced nervously out of the corner of his eye at Cleburne and the doorway containing Gunny outside.

"Don't worry Wolfie, we know all about the things that go bump in the night. Known about them even longer than you and Mr. Hall here."

Oz raised an eyebrow at Cleburne's comment. "Wolfie? And, Hall?"

Xander shrugged. "That's the name I'm using now. Xander Harris is dead, after all. And hey, a few hours ago you had a whole lot more fur and pretty long fangs. I think the name fits-"

Oz turned his attention to his former classmate. "Wanting to focus. Any way you want to paint it, you definitely did not want to be around us, Xander. We didn't share a word from the time you got back, till the graduation ceremony."

A shrug. "Yeah, well, there was a reason for that."

Daniel Osbourne almost made an expression. "And that was?"

Another shrug. "It hurt too much."

For once, Oz looked confused; he raised an eyebrow. "Hurt? What do you mean?"

Xander sighed to himself. Other than with Angel he hadn't really been *Mr. Talkative*, as to what was wrong with him. The Scoobies had known bits and pieces, but not the whole story. The so-called Rangers lieutenant glanced over at Cleburne, to make sure he wasn't getting any subtle hints to not tell Oz about his condition; but seeing none, the guy started talking.

"Well, like Wesley probably told you guys, my brain couldn't process what I was experiencing. Every time I was near any of you except him and Angel, my brain couldn't cope - and I had these violent seizures. I had two sets of past memories, y'see, and the future memories as well to deal with."

"Two set of memories? I, uh, thought you just had that whole 'knowledge of the future' deal."

Xander shook his head, ignoring a glare from Cleburne. "No, dude, two sets of memories plus the future ones. The other memories of senior year I have, they diverged from the history you know...uh, from the time Angelus tried to send the world to Hell using Acathla."

"Huh," was Oz's only reply. And despite the brevity, the musician clearly grasped what he was being told. "Intense."

{ Well, he always was pretty smart, } Xander quickly thought to himself with a hidden smile. { Not Wizard smart, granted, but clearly Willow smart. Damn shame Wills was secretly gay all along; their kids definitely woulda raised the average IQ on the planet, by at least a couple of points! }

"Yeah. Well, with all that stuff in my head, every time I was near anybody who caused conflicting memories of the future, I couldn't function," Xander summed it up.

Oz nodded. "That would had to have hurt. Knowing the future, but not able to do anything about it because of the brain seizures-"

Xander shook his head. "No, no, there were ways around that. I learned I could write warnings for the important stuff. Big Bads and the like," the young man said without thinking.

Oz sat there for a second, thinking. "You mean, you could have given us warnings about anything and everything that was to come?"

Xander nodded simply, "Yeah."

Oz's voice rose somewhat, even though his face was still expressionless. "And you didn't think me killing Veruca was something that I might have wanted to avoid?"

Xander mentally cursed. "Oz, I understand-"

The werewolf kept right on going, though. "And call me crazy, but maybe I might have wanted to know about Willow deciding to play for the other team, and hooking up with Tara. Don't you think?"

Now Cleburne was getting nervous, and considered calling for Gunny outside. Xander held up his hands in a calming manner, "Oz. I know you're upset, but you just have to-"

Joshua Cleburne looked at Oz, and frowned. "Hey, his hair's getting longer!"

Oz shut his eyes for a second. "You could have prevented all that, but you didn't. You *chose* not to-" Oz opened his eyes again; and they were bright yellow, as he succumbed to the transformation into the wolf.

Xander and Cleburne started backing up. "Oh, crap!" Xander yelled, as he was suddenly faced with a very angry werewolf.

Gunny burst in, and saw the wolf easily slam the table that was separating him from Xander across the room. The werewolf then stopped and yelped; it then looked down at the dart protruding out of its chest. Then it gracelessly fell to the ground.

Charles Rose approached it, still holding the tranquilizer gun he had picked up when they had gotten to the base. { For God's sake, Hall, can't I leave you alone for even one minute? I swear, one day I'm gonna let the bad guys have your ass, to save me the headache of safeguarding it! }

Cleburne looked down at the now-sleeping wolf. "I don't get paid enough for this horse hockey. Gunny, tell the others we're flying out in the next thirty minutes. I want to get to an American base, before Wolfie here wakes up!"

**Cleveland, Ohio. The next day**

"Nice place you got us here," she said with a trace of sarcasm.

Sam Zabuto mentally sighed. Kendra, the previous Slayer he had been assigned to, had been so much easier to deal with. This 'Kennedy' that was now his new charge, she was definitely cut from a different cloth.

"No doubt once we have the servants clean it up, it will look much better," the tall black Jamaican responded, also with a trace of sarcasm.

Kennedy the vampire Slayer just raised an eyebrow at the comment. As this new Watcher of hers, he was full of surprises.

The old one had been so straight-laced that Kennedy had honestly thought his head was going to explode, when she had casually mentioned that she was a lesbian. But Sam had just taken it in stride, and even wondered out loud if she wanted him to look through the personal ads for her. { At least this one seems to have some sense of humor! }

"Well, better get their asses in gear then. Sooner this place is up and running, the sooner I can entertain the Vanderbilts," she joked.

"Ah. If I recall correctly, you might encounter one or two of the Vanderbilts in your duties here."

"Really? Bummer! Dad would hate it, if I dusted anyone who might have connections to help his business..." She walked around the large room. "So, what, we make this the training room?"

The Watchers Council had obtained a large warehouse with an apartment suite on the top floor for Sam and his Slayer to use. Some modifications had been made, but the top floor had been left unfinished so it could be completed according to the tastes of the new occupants.

And this Slayer had pretty extravagant tastes, from what Sam had seen so far.

"Indeed, this will be the training room. With quite a bit of work, it should do very nicely. We have much for you to catch up on." For some reason, the Watcher before him had seemed more concerned with trying to drill into Kennedy a loyalty to the Council, rather than honing her combat skills. { The fool. Did the man have no desire to help his Slayer live as long as possible? }

Luckily, the ex-Watcher had not been successful at either getting Kennedy dead or turning her into the Council's robot. Then Sam had been pulled from his assignment in the Caribbean and recalled back to London, to take over as Kennedy's Watcher. He had been told several strange things as to the local authorities, too.

Zabuto had heard rumors of grave troubles between the American government, and the Council. He had also seen the news report which had Quentin Travers involved in the kidnapping of a Federal witness in the U.S.

And tellingly enough, Travers hadn't been the one to brief him on his new assignment. It had been his assistant Phillip who had carried out that task, who if the rumors were to be believed...had then been fired from his job almost immediately afterwards.

Even more fascinating was the fact Phillip had also told him he could trust Rupert Giles and call him in an emergency, even though the orders from the Council were that his former colleague was *not* to be contacted at any time. There were further orders from the Council on the necessity of having emergency plans of getting out of the United States in a hurry, if circumstances called for it.

{ Curiouser and curiouser, as the Englishman once said. My assignment in this country should prove to be most...interesting. }

**Heathrow Airport, London, England. The same time**

Quentin Travers leaned back in his seat, as the private jet took off. He looked around the cabin; the members of his retrieval team were likewise strapped into their seats.

{ Soon, child, soon you'll pay for what you've done. And I will see to it, that the payment is delivered in full! }

**Ramstein Air Force Base, Wiesbaden, Germany. The next day**

Oz slowly made his way back to the land of consciousness. He absently grasped the blanket close to him, trying to stay warm. { You know, I definitely do not miss this part of the werewolf experience, } the young man thought to himself as he suppressed a groan.

"Morning, Mr. Osbourne. I hope you'll pardon the accommodations, but in light of the shape you were in when you arrived - we thought it best for all concerned."

Oz opened his eyes and looked around. He was laying on a cot with a blanket wrapped around him. Sitting across the room from him was Xander, and the older man that was named Cleburne. In between Oz and them, were the bars of a jail cell.

Oz was sitting in what appeared to be a row of cells, occupying the middle one. "Cozy arrangement you have here," he commented.

Xander looked apologetically at Oz. "Sorry, Oz. It was just-"

Cleburne interrupted the man born in Sunnydale, "My idea. The kid argued against it, said earlier was just the shock of the situation." He shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. I'm not going to take the risk. I would prefer not seeing my insides on the outside again. And the kid here?" The Siberian motioned over towards Xander. "I'm not risking his life. He's too damn important."

Xander looked over at Cleburne. "Seeing your insides on the outside...again?"

"Hey kid, I *did* have a life before you showed up. I had plenty of opportunities to get myself skewered."

"Anyone I know?"

"No, these people are actually scary. Nothing like what you dealt with. Serious stuff, out of your league," Cleburne ribbed Xander.

The former Zeppo looked annoyed. "Hey, you yourself said I was too important to risk my life. I think that qualifies as serious stuff!"

"You're important 'cause the Wizard and Esther would never let me hear the end of it, if you got yourself killed. You would be gone, and *I* would be the one having to clean up the mess."

Xander made a face at Cleburne, as Oz looked at the secret agents. "Any chance you guys will let me out, while you continue with this chat?"

The two on the outside turned their attention to the one in the cell, still underneath the blanket. Cleburne pointed into the cell, "Get dressed, we had some clothes brought in for you."

Oz looked where his captor was pointing. There was a set of clothes sitting there, and he quickly got dressed. "Okay, what next?" the guy asked.

Cleburne spoke up first, beating Xander by just a few seconds. "I'm told you can control the wolf inside of you. So what happened back in Prague?"

"Sometimes, not often, I lose control when I learn something..." Oz paused for a few seconds. "Shocking or disturbing."

"And this was shocking, how?"

"Willow," Oz said softly.

"I'm sorry about that, Oz. And believe me, I know how much it hurts," Xander said sympathetically.

"Then why didn't you warn me, or do something about it?"

Xander was silent for a few seconds, looking down at the floor. He then looked up, "You've met Tara?"

"Yeah," was the curt, tense reply.

"Bottom line, she makes Willow happier than anyone I've ever met till 2003. Everyone has a soul mate in this world, and like it or not - she's Willow's one true love, whatever universe I find myself in. And I say this as someone who loved Wills, before...it happened."

Oz was silent for a few seconds. "I heard you that night, you know."

"What?" Xander asked in confusion.

"In the hospital, when she was in a coma. I heard you tell her that you loved her."

Xander again looked apologetically at Oz. "Ancient history, man. And that wasn't me; that was an idiot naïve teenager, blinded by concern and jealousy. I was wrong, and I'm sorry."

Oz waved off Xander's apology. "No. I should apologize to you, with everything what happened that week. When Buffy and the others got mad at you over the ensouling spell, I didn't stand up for you. Didn't do a damn thing to help you, just because Willow was my girlfriend. I should have."

"People?" Cleburne intoned. "You can talk about those issues later, on account of we have more important matters to deal with at the moment."

"Right. So, who else knows you're alive?" Oz asked calmly.

"Like that," Cleburne commented.

Xander shrugged. "In Sunnydale? Nobody you know. There's one guy who moved there last year that's part of the organization, but none of the Scooby gang know about him; or me."

Oz stared at Harris. "Uh-huh. Wouldn't that be something they might like to know?"

"It would be *very* inadvisable for them to know that fact," Cleburne commented. "Now let's cut to the bottom line. What do you intend to do?"

Oz looked at the man questioning him. "I don't see how that's any of your business."

"Oh no, it is *definitely* my business, Wolfie. Because after taking a wrong turn two nights ago, you now know one of the ultimate holy of holies when it comes to the maximum guarded secrets of Uncle Sam. The fact that Xander Harris is still alive, has led to plenty of sleepless nights for a lot of high mucky-mucks around the globe. That secret is one that lots of people are willing to kill and die for!"

Oz's expression never changed. "How many? And what are you going to do? Kill me to keep the secret?"

Xander shook his head. "Oz, no one is going to do anything like-"

"Nine," Cleburne spoke up.

"What?" Xander demanded.

"Nine," Cleburne said again. "That's the number of people that have been directly killed over the secret of Xander Harris."

Xander paled a little bit at that. "Nine? What the - I knew about the photographer in LA, but not the other eight! What gives?"

Oz felt concern building up within him, both for himself and his friend. "Nine, you've killed nine people to keep your secret?"

Cleburne shook his head at that. "No, we've killed *four* people to protect him. The other five got killed by third parties..."

The secret agent continued on, trying to clarify things, "The photographer in LA was killed by Wolfram & Hart. An information broker in Beirut was killed by French intelligence, two mercenaries were killed in Honolulu by the Chinese and a demon cult killed a man in San Francisco - thinking he was holding back information from them, as to the kid's location."

"And the four our side's killed?" Xander asked.

"Two of them were from the demon cult in San Francisco, along with a mercenary hired by the French at the same time - that was back when we first caught up with you, kid." Cleburne then looked at the werewolf. "The fourth one was another mercenary in New York, hired by a corporation to try and grab Harris away from us."

"Corporation?" Oz asked.

"Yeah! Ain't capitalism grand," Cleburne observed with a sneer. "So as you can see, Wolfie, this is something that can get people killed. That's why it's better for everyone concerned, if the old gang back in the land of the Hellmouth remains in the dark. Especially your former girlfriend, comprende?"

"So you've left them unguarded," Oz said with an accusatory tone in his voice, as he looked at Xander.

Cleburne shook his head. "No, as Harris here said, we've got a guy in Sunnydale to keep an eye on them."

The shape-shifter looked doubtful. "Just one guy?"

"Trust me, he's all we need. Anything he can't handle, we can have the First Marine Division there in less than an hour."

"Just one man?" Oz was still unconvinced.

"Oz, all the big stuff is already taken care of. Angel and I did it before we left town; they're going to have a couple of Big Bad-free years. The Little Bad and middle-range stuff, the Scoobs can handle on their own. Anything bigger, and the seventh cavalry gets called in," Xander responded in a soothing tone. Cleburne kept quiet, not observing that the seventh cavalry had been massacred.

That seemed to satisfy the wolf man. "Okay, but only because I trust Xander, not you," he said, pointing at Cleburne.

"Well, la-de-da," Cleburne replied nastily. "I don't need your trust, right now you need mine."

Oz stared at the secret agent, as Cleburne continued, "Look, buddy..." Xander noted that the senior agent hadn't called Oz kid. "You've stumbled onto something Top Secret. Something not meant for public ears."

"Like the aliens at Roswell?" Oz asked with a straight face.

"That was just a weather balloon at Roswell," Cleburne responded.

"Yeah, right!" Oz muttered.

Xander looked on silently. { Oh yeah, I forgot, these guys are probably the ones who can tell me if little green men and the like really do exist. Maybe I can get the inside scoop on that later on, from Hollins? After all, I am Future Boy and everything for them. }

Cleburne continued on, "Whatever, there are valid reasons for keeping Harris' survival a secret. Beyond just keeping his friends safe, although the kid did insist on that..." Oz raised an eyebrow and glanced over at Xander, at hearing this.

"He also knows the really bad stuff that's about to happen in this world, and not just the weird crap you guys had in Sunnyhell," Cleburne said, using Xander's nickname for his hometown. "Stuff that we normally handle. Stuff that history books will be full of one day. Stuff that people look back on and say, *if they only knew beforehand*."

Joshua stared right in Oz's eyes. "Well, now we know. We can stop this stuff and save a whole bunch of lives and really stick it to the bad guys in the process," Cleburne finished up.

"Come on," Oz said skeptically. "You've just found an excuse to try and warp the future to your own designs."

"Oz, he's right about something bad coming," Xander said with a sigh.

"Well, so we'll stop it like we always do," the wolfish former Scooby said with conviction.

"No, buddy, that's impossible," Xander said with sadness. "Because even if we always fight and beat the demon-type monsters, we don't have a clue how to look for terrorists and people like them. We don't know where they hide, where they go to take their pilot lessons and stuff like that. Thousands of people die during one single day, in New York City. These guys can stop it, not the Slayer. And I just couldn't keep silent and have the blood of all those people on my hands. Can you?"

Oz was silent for a few moments. "Have they stopped it yet?"

Xander shook his head. "No, 'cause it won't happen until late next year."

Oz thought for a few seconds on Xander's response. "Give us a few moments alone," the musician motioned at his former Sunnydale comrade.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Cleburne declared at once.

"No, it's all right Cleburne. I can handle it," Xander said with complete certainty.

Joshua looked torn for a few seconds. "All right, kid, but keep that cell door locked!" Cleburne started to leave the room, "I'll be right outside, if something goes wrong." The door then clicked, as the STW operative closed it.

As soon as he was sure that the Siberian was gone Xander got up, and walked to the table against the wall. He opened the drawer and pulled out the key. Harris then walked over and unlocked the cell door for Oz. "Come on out, dude."

Xander sat back down, as Oz came out and took the chair Cleburne had been using. "Where are we, anyway?" he asked, to get the ball rolling.

"Air Force base at Wiesbaden, Germany."

"So, what now?" Oz asked his time-displaced friend.

"Mother Hen's question still stands, I'm thinkin'..." Oz raised an eyebrow at Xander's use of Cleburne's nickname. "What do you intend to do, now that you know I'm alive?"

"The others back home, they'd really be in danger if they knew?"

"Possibly. Probably. If I were to guess, Buffy at least would start asking questions that'll get the wrong people looking at them. Which would lead to the wrong people coming after them. And trust me, I know all about that!" He held up his right wrist, the scars and blisters from his escape still visible.

"What happened?" Oz asked neutrally.

"You remember that guy from the Council named Travers?"

Oz frowned. "Vaguely. He was the one that tested Buffy that January during her senior year, right?"

Xander smirked viciously. "Yeah, that's the one. He happened to me."

"Bummer."

Harris laughed, and it was no expression of amusement. "Yeah, well, he's even less gentle with normal humans than he is with Slayers. And there are others out there just like him, who want to get ahold of me. You heard the list of the dead," Xander commented.

"How've you been holding up, all alone?" the werewolf asked suddenly.

The former class clown looked away. "Best as I can, and hell - at least these people actually seem to be trying to do the right thing," he motioned at the door Cleburne had exited through.

"You trust them?" Oz asked carefully.

"Yeah, as much as I trust anyone these days. They've carried through on their agreement with me, anyway."

The former member of 'Dingoes Ate My Baby' frowned and asked, "What agreement was that?"

"Well, I told them about the terrorist attacks that are coming, and believe me - they're real doozies. I also help them learn about vampires and demons. That's what we were doing in Prague."

"What are you getting in return?"

Xander shrugged. "They're joining in on the fight against the things that go bump in the night. And there's a really nasty Big Bad coming in two years. We're talking the ultimate evil here; remember the thing that tried to get Angel to off himself once? We barely stopped it, the first time around. This time, it looks like the baddie is trying to rig the game in its favor. The good guys need all the help they can get."

"That all?" Oz asked, already knowing the answer.

"No, as I said, they're also keeping an eye on Sunnydale and the gang."

Daniel Osbourne started pacing for a while, then he stopped and stared at Harris. "Something occurring. Now, back in Prague, you mentioned the headaches; as I recall they come from the conflicting memories of someone or something, that's made worse by physical presence. Is that right?"

The man currently working with Siberian Trip Wire nodded, as Oz went on, "And yet, you're able to talk to me no problem...which means I never went back to or got in contact with anyone in Sunnydale, till after 2003. So, odds are you don't have a clue what my destiny would have been, if I hadn't found you in that alley the other night. Am I wrong here?"

Xander cursed silently, he hadn't thought about that. "No."

The Oz-meister nodded. "So, this group you're with. Think they can use another helper?"

The former slave shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine..."

**Lemke's Book Treasury, Sunnydale, California. The next day**

"Where do these go?" Willow asked the bookstore owner, as she wheeled the cart with the boxes of books on them.

Lemke looked over at the two boxes that the redheaded Wiccan was pushing. "Hmmmm, put them in my office, I'll sort through them later on..."

Willow pushed the cart though the store back to the bookstore's owner. The few months she had been working in the bookstore had very relaxing for her, as a matter of fact.

She loved being among the books, it reminded her of the old days in the Sunnydale High library. And even if her boss had a real love for the old tomes, he was also accepting of new ideas. Willow had been able to convince him to set up some computer terminals for Internet access by the patrons. Business had then picked up quite a bit, as word spread through the local community about the new charms of the quaint store.

The witch moved the boxes from the cart and put them on the table, as Lemke also entered the office. Willow finished moving the boxes, and then looked around the walls of the office.

"Josef?" She had gotten over feeling uncomfortable calling her boss by his first name by this time. "I've been meaning to ask you. Who are these pictures of?" Several photos of Lemke in uniform, along with other soldiers, were present on the wall.

Lemke looked up to see which pictures she was referring to. "Oh, those are from my time in the army."

Willow examined the photos. "You sure seem to have got around. These photos look to be from all over the world! Oh, what did you do in the army?"

"A little bit of this, and a little bit of that. Nothing very exciting to someone like you, I'm sure," Lemke replied, hoping to be vague enough to dissuade her from asking more questions.

Willow came to a photo that seemed to hold a place of honor on the wall. It was of Lemke in fatigues holding a sniper rifle. He was flanked on either side by two soldiers similarly dressed, and holding a similar weapon. "Who are these guys?"

Lemke saw the photo she was looking at, and his expression grew grim. "That's from when I was in Africa. Somalia, actually, back in '93."

Willow noticed Lemke's change in demeanor. "Something bad happen there?"

"You could say that..." Lemke looked around. His eyes went to the bookshelf he kept behind his desk, and the STW operative went over there and took out a book with a black cover. "Here, this can tell you all about it better than I can. The two soldiers in the picture with me are Gary Gordon and Randall Shughart. They're mentioned in the book. Read this, and maybe I'll tell you everything about what happened someday. Then again, maybe not."

Willow looked down at the book; the title read, _Blackhawk Down_.

**Ramstein Air Force Base, Wiesbaden, Germany. The next day**

It turned out that the Siberians were in fact very receptive to receiving another helper. "Hey, better for you to earn your keep around here, rather than just loaf around all day," Cleburne had commented when approached by Oz and Xander about it.

Communications back to the Siberians in the United States had a similar result, particularly once the child genius Hollins got a look at Oz's transcripts. It looked like there might finally be someone close to his age who could keep up, albeit with intense concentration, with Hollins' ideas.

There was also having a werewolf to actually help out in the studies of the paranormal. Apparently, no one had ever had the chance to examine a Garou in a controlled setting before. Of course, that may have been due to the fact that most of the people seeking to do so had been of the same vein as Maggie Walsh. They hadn't really gone out of their way to try to get the cooperation of the subject, as oddly enough mad scientists usually don't exactly measure up on people skills.

So Oz had been provisionally accepted into STW as a field advisor, the same as Xander. And when Harris had asked him why he wanted to sign up, Oz had just sighed and replied, "Hey, I've helped save the world a few times, both with the gang in Sunnydale and by myself. I can't exactly abandon the job now." Xander had smiled at that, understanding Oz perfectly.

Both men had spent the past few days catching up. They had avoided the subject of Willow, that night in the hospital and the events at the end of junior year. There was an unspoken understanding that that would be a conversation for another day.

Instead, Oz had been telling Xander of his adventures in the Orient, while he was learning to control his inner wolf and the people he had met. He'd spoken of the werewolf monk Shantou, who had taught him the self-control he valued so much now. Of the girl Jinan and her family of Kaohsiung demons in Hong Kong, that had helped him on his quest.

Not to mention the band he had hooked up with, after leaving Sunnydale for the second time. They had made their way across the United States, and then Europe. Along the way they had encountered vampires, demons and a warlock intent on destroying the world to gain supreme power.

Xander had silently wondered just how many end-of-the-world type situations had happened, that he'd never known about. { Better get the Siberians more into the game, to deal with them. On account of the good guys only have to fail once, for everything to end up ca-ca. }

Harris in turn had filled Oz in on what he knew about Siberian Trip Wire. Cleburne and his teams of agents, that had calmly slipped from the world of anti-terrorism into the world of demon fighting. Irving Hollins, the now 12-year-old super-genius who seemed to know everything and anticipate every possibility. The fight against the demons that was spreading around the world, and the new allies entering it.

Oz had hesitated when his old friend had mentioned that point. "Xander, that first time in the alley when I saw you. Rachael, the woman with you then? For a second, I thought she was..."

"I know, I know, she does look a little bit like Faith," Xander had replied, staring off into space. "And the worst part is, she wasn't supposed to die at Graduation."

Oz had looked a little shocked at that, which was saying something. "What? She survived...there?"

"Yeah, get me drunk sometime and I'll tell you the whole story. She lived until 2003, maybe longer. I remember how she had hooked up with Robin Wood, the new principal at Sunnydale High..." Xander had continued on, but seeing Oz raise an eyebrow at the reference to a Sunnydale High School principal. "Hey, no! Woody was and is and will be *nothing* like Snyder. His mother was a Slayer, actually, someone Spike killed back in the 1970s."

Oz had frowned at the mention of the soulless undead. "Please tell me that particular bloodsucker is dusted in the future."

Xander had somehow laughed and frowned at the same time. "Another story for when we get drunk, at the next post-op celebration."

But now a few days later, the Siberians were getting ready to head back to the States. The problems with Xander's parents and the courtroom drama in San Francisco were all over, so it was time to go home. The gang was waiting in a hangar to board the plane; and they were being accompanied by Rachael, who hadn't yet given up on trying to charm Xander with her considerable feminine wiles.

But Harris only half-paid attention to her efforts. { Sweet mamalushin, I really have changed, } he thought in amusement. { Six years ago I'd have been so fixated on her, I wouldn't even know what country I was in. But nowadays? Her act, it's almost just a distraction. }

"Damn it, what now?!"

Cleburne cursing brought Xander back to giving his full attention to what was going on in the hangar. They were being approached by a group of German policemen, and several strange men in civilian clothes.

But as they got closer, Xander recognized one of them. Quentin Travers.

"Just what we need, Masterpiece Theater without the charm!" Cleburne grumbled. Unnoticed by everyone except the senior Siberian, Gunny slipped off and headed into an office.

The Watcher had a look of smug satisfaction on his face. "Kommissar Seitz, I believe you know what to do," he said to the German police officer in charge, as they got within earshot of the Siberians. The official then stepped forward.

He looked down the line of the Americans, his gaze stopping when it got to Xander. "You are Herr Alexander Harris? I have an arrest warrant for your person. As well as a request from Her Majesty's government in the United Kingdom, for extradition to that country at once."

"On what grounds?" Xander demanded. He noticed that Cleburne didn't seem to be getting too worked up by what was going on, though. { Geez, a little concern here would be nice! }

"Charges of murder, assault and kidnapping," was the reply.

{ Well, when the Watchers trump up criminal charges, they sure don't mess around, } Xander mentally observed with a sneer. "I see."

"And if this is the wrong guy?" Red asked.

"The man will have ample opportunity to address that through the proper channels," Travers announced with a look of contempt. Gunny then quietly rejoined the group.

"Yeah, I'm really sure of that," Red announced with a generous helping of sarcasm.

Travers folded his arms, and glared at the Americans. "I assure you that everything is quite legal and aboveboard. The law is on our side here, and any attempt to interfere with the actions of these officials will only lead to you joining Mr. Harris in custody."

"Just for the record, my name is Alexander Hall," Xander said. { Best try to bluff this out if I can. I don't think the Watcher goon squad will try a shootout in front of the German police. }

"You'll have to come with me to the Polizeiwache, the stationhouse for us to confirm that, mein herr," the cop announced. And both the Watchers and the Siberians knew what would happen once Xander was on his way to the stationhouse, where there would be a window of opportunity for the Council to pull its dirty tricks.

"This is bullshit, and we don't have time for this. The plane is ready, and we have places to be," Cleburne announced frankly.

"Oh, you're quite free to leave. We'll just take the child with us, so run along if you like," Travers taunted Cleburne.

"The kid's not a child, you asshole," the STW operative sighed. "Hall, just show the nice German police officer your papers. Remember, I made sure you got them back at the airbase in the Czech Republic?"

Xander was confused for a second. { What good will that do? } But he pulled the wallet out and handed it to the police commissioner.

The Kommissar opened it up, and looked at the documents. After a few seconds, he looked back up. "These identify you as Herr Lieutenant Alexander Hall of the United States Army, nicht wahr?"

"Yeah, that's my name." { For now anyway, } Xander thought with a shrug after he spoke.

"Really?" Rachael whispered in his ear, thoroughly amused at the unexpected show. Xander just glared at her, as Oz stared unblinking at Travers - ready to wolf out, the moment it was necessary.

Some of the Watchers recognized the redheaded man from the photographs, and grew visibly nervous - on account of none of them had any silver bullets or knives, which almost everyone knew were the only things which would permanently kill Oz, if the blood started splattering the walls here.

"Now, I already know what you're going to ask next," Cleburne spoke up, ignoring the antics of those around him. "And to answer your question, Herr Kommissar, no - the American armed forces do *not* waive jurisdiction in this matter. When the JAG officer arrives, I'm sure he will confirm that to you. Now, are we done here?"

Suddenly Travers looked confused. "What do you mean? Everything is in order for the extradition and us taking Mr. Harris into immediate custody. What is the problem?"

"Everything is proper for a civilian, that is true Herr Travers-" Otto started to say.

"So what's the problem, man? Arrest him!" Travers snapped.

"Visiting Forces Agreement, you thickheaded ass," Cleburne announced with a smirk, as Seitz bristled at being ordered around like that.

"What?" Travers demanded.

"Alexander Hall is a member of the United States Army Rangers. Under the Visiting Forces Agreement signed between the United States and the Federal Republic of Germany, he is not subject to the jurisdiction of the German government. Any legal matters must proceed through the U.S. military justice system. I believe that the United Kingdom has a similar agreement with the USA..."

As Cleburne finished up, several jeeps of U.S. Air Force Air Policemen pulled up in front of the hangar. A uniformed officer also exited from the jeep. "Colonel Cleburne?"

Joshua raised his hand in identification to the officer. "Well, I suspect this is the JAG officer here. So you can take up your legal matters with him, right?" the man then added.

"Very good, Herr Oberst," the German policeman clicked his heels together, straight out of an old war movie.

"But, but this is outrageous!" Travers sputtered. { The child is not going to escape me this easily! }

"Nein, Herr Travers, this is the law," the cop observed humorlessly. "If memory serves me correct, your request must be filed through U.S. military channels before any action can be taken."

Cleburne nodded. "And I'm sure these nice military policemen can help the Tweed Brigade here not come to any harm while the paperwork is prepared." He then looked at his watch. "Oh my, look at the time. Too bad we can't stay, we've got a plane to catch." He motioned to the Siberians to follow him.

Several members of the Watchers retrieval team tensed up, and looked ready to start something. Red noticed this and commented, "Hey, limey boys, you're in the middle of a U.S. Air Force base filled with heavily-armed soldiers, in a situation where the local cops are saying we're in the right. You try anything, and they'll need a firehose to wash your remains off of the floor - you understand me?"

The retrieval team members looked at each other; they had heard the underground rumors about what had happened in Georgia, during the first attempt at obtaining Mr. Harris. On the other hand, what would happen to them back in Britain upon doing nothing also definitely required consideration...

Otto Seitz, who was nobody's fool, quickly said to his men, "Immer ruhig," ordering them to remain calm as the U.S. soldiers cocked their weapons and took aim at the Council operatives, but not the cops.

It was very touch and go - but in the end, immediate personal survival came before a certain bloodbath. So the goon squad stood down despite the expression on Travers's face, as the Siberians walked to the plane.

"You knew about this?" Xander asked suspiciously.

"Not the timing. But we knew what they were going to try," Cleburne silently tipped a hat to Cummings, the MI-6 liaison in Washington who had warned them of what was coming. "It was simple enough to figure out how to stop them. And as long as you're in any country where Uncle Sam has a visiting forces agreement for its troops, kid, you're golden."

"Except for England," Oz observed.

"Well, yeah, we wouldn't want you going there. That might get a little...hairy."

A few minutes later, the plane taking the Siberians back across the Atlantic sped down the runway. Travers looked on seething, as the American JAG officer kept jabbering in his ear, killing time on a request that both of them knew would not go anywhere. { I'll get you one day, Harris. Your friends can't protect you forever. One day, your arse is mine! }

TBC...


	11. Chapter 11

**Season Two**

**Part Eleven**

**Outside the Caritas Karaoke bar, Los Angeles, California. Late August, 2000**

"Wes, just what exactly is this place outside the box that you're taking us to? 'Cause I'm getting a little wigged out here, with you doing the big dark secret thing. That's Angel's gig!" Cordelia waved her hand at the ensouled vampire, who was walking alongside her and Wesley.

The former Watcher chuckled. "Ah, well. You'll see - but I rather imagine you'll like it, Cordelia. I've been here a couple of times in meets with various informants, and given what I've heard of your sophomore year talent show...every time I've said to myself, that one day I just had to bring you along."

"Forget that," Angel said at once. Unlike Wes, he'd *been* there - and would prefer to take a bath in holy water, rather than hear Cordy sing again. "What I want to know is if your snitch is actually going to be here."

Wes placated Angel, "Yes, yes, he said he would be here. Merl's a parasite demon, and the money's made him most reliable thus far."

"Well, I sure hope so. Because I want to know exactly what's going on with this Prio Motu demon Cordy had a vision about..." The three of them then reached the bottom of the stairs.

Wes opened the door for his two companions. "Welcome to Caritas."

The two of them looked in. Cordelia then smiled and clapped her hands like a schoolgirl, "Cool, a Karaoke bar!"

**Inside the bar. Ten minutes later**

The entire staff of Angel Investigations was seated around the table near the stage. The waitress, a green-skinned demon had taken their orders and then hurried off. As the three of them chatted, the lounge demon/owner of Caritas approached.

"Wes, you British studmuffin! Great to see you again. However, just so you know, after what happened last time - I'm not letting you sing opera again," the anagogic demon said with a wink.

Wesley looked around at his friends in embarrassment. "Come now, it-it wasn't that bad..."

Lorne shook his head. "Oh, no, you're a decent singer. More so than many of the musical wannabes that fill my bar! It's just that some of the clientele...just don't like opera. They leave, fewer drinks are ordered and the tips go down. And I'm a businessman, after all..."

The Host then looked at Wesley's companions at the table. "All right, so who are these two new delightful customers?"

Wes pointed at his boss. "First off, let me introduce Angel. He's the head of Angel Investigations, and he needs some information."

Lorne sent him a huge smile. "Well! Hey there, Angel-cakes, welcome to Caritas! Okay, information we got. 'Course, you know what you have to do."

The former Angelus looked puzzled. "This is your snitch?" he asked Wesley.

The British man shook his head, with a big grin on his face. "No, no, Lorne is not who we came to meet..." Wesley looked around. "Merl doesn't appear to have gotten here yet, I knew we shouldn't have come so early despite your insistence! Well, in the meantime, I suppose Lorne can always read your destiny-"

"Read my destiny?"

"Oh yeah, Tall Dark and Gelled Hair. You dish, then I tell you what you need to know. A certain place you need to be? A certain honey you need to see? I give you the name or address. And everyone has fun, when I do it."

Angel self-consciously rubbed his hair. It had been quite a while, since anyone apart from Cordelia had commented about his 'do. As a matter of fact, not since Sunnydale and his time with Xander Harris had his hair been the subject of jokes like that. "Okay, Lorne. What do I do?"

"Basically, sweetikins, just get up on that stage and sing a tune," Lorne pointed towards the spotlight, where a demon that resembled Angel's acquaintance Tom Cribb was about to start singing 'I'm So Excited' by The Pointer Sisters.

"What!?" Angel exclaimed in surprise.

Wesley laughed. "Angel, it *is* a Karaoke bar. And Lorne's psychic. He's connected to the mystic realms, as it were. When you sing, you bare your soul. He sees into it."

"I don't sing," Angel declared resolutely, folding his arms.

The vampire Champion who was anticipating becoming human one day was adamant on that point for the next five minutes, as both Wesley and Lorne tried hard to convince him to grace them with a musical number. Cordy joined in every once in a while laughingly, goading Angel a lot; but she never succeeded in making him budge either.

Finally, Lorne just sighed in exasperation. "I tell you, Wes honey, it's been about a month since I've had someone this ornery about singing for me! And I swear, if that Alexander Hall fella hadn't had a bunch of his friends trying to force him to get up on stage, I don't think he ever would have-"

Angel's eyes narrowed at once, as he heard the name 'Alexander Hall'. He knew that was the alias Xander had decided to use, when he had left the City of Angels; and he hadn't heard anything from the former Scooby, since Gunn had returned from Georgia. So if it was Xander, he had recently been in Los Angeles - and hadn't contacted him?

Cordelia perked up at the mention of the name too. "Hey Angel, I remember him! Isn't that the guy that you were waiting for an email from, for like ages? Is he a singer or something? He could be right here in...hey!" Cordy shouted in indignant surprise, as Angel stood up suddenly and led Lorne to out of earshot of her and Wes.

Once he was sure they were out of listening range of the humans, the Irish-born vamp turned to his companion. "Alexander Hall. Tall guy, about 6 feet or so with black hair, early twenties with a big vampire bite scar on his neck?"

Lorne nodded. "That's him all right, bucko. His friends had to almost put a gun to his head to make him sing. And believe you me, from the reading I did...I really wish he'd said no!" Lorne absent-mindedly rubbed his temple, as the headache from that experience had stayed with him for a couple of days afterwards.

Angel looked at Lorne. "I need to know about his reading. Everything you told him."

Lorne frowned at the ensouled vampire. "No can do, honeybunch. I have my business ethics; I don't give up the details of a reading to anyone, except the person read. How'd *you* like it if I blabbed your destiny to every Tom, Dick and Demon? Or worse for you, every Wolfram & Hart?"

Angel leaned in towards Lorne, ready to vamp out. "Look, this is *very* important. I know the guy, he's an old...friend. Alexander Hall may need my help. So I need to know what you told him to do, so I can find him and give it to the guy if need be!"

Angel had hesitated a second, before calling Xander a friend. He knew that at one point in his life Xander had well and truly despised his vampiric self; but Angel felt that during the time after Xander had returned from that hell dimension, they had put the past behind them and become friends.

Lorne just stared back and said, "Hmmm, let me think. Oh, yeah...no! Because only way I tell someone else the details of a reading, is if the person read personally gives me the big thumbs-up. No exceptions!"

"Alexander Hall would say it's all right. Believe me on that."

Lorne shook his head. "No dice, big boy. Only if I hear his lips say it with my own two ears do I spill. Otherwise, the tablecloth remains spotless."

Angel went into game face out of exasperation and lunged for the Host, but was blasted back by an explosion of blue light. The vampire was flabbergasted, { What the fu- }

"Sanctuary spell that's cast on the place first thing every month, sweetie. No demon violence is possible in here." Lorne then smiled intensely, "Oh yeah, I think you get my drift now, Mr. Hunka-Hunka Burning Love. So - how about a performance, huh? I want to help all my clients, but I can't read you unless you sing!"

Angel ignored that and took him back to Wes and Cordy, for them to try to convince the Host to talk. Wesley pointed to the new occupant of the table, "Angel, this is Merl-"

The snitch was instantly uncomfortable. "Keep the bloodsucker away from me, Pryce. I know his rep, okay? He eats his own kind. Beating on demons wherever he finds 'em-"

Lorne ignored that. "Well, hello! And by the way, I didn't get the name of your lovely companion sitting here before. So who's the hot-a-rama sitting at Table 8?"

Cordy grinned, "I'm Cordelia Chase, Mr. Green Mojo Guy..." Then she, Wes and Merl were distracted by the hooting and catcalls, when the demon known as Mordar the Bentback got up on stage to sing.

But Angel wasn't, and he watched as Lorne backed off with his face becoming expressionless, unable to help himself. The vamp instantly led the Host away for a private conversation, ignoring his two human friends; who looked around and were startled to see their boss and the lounge demon both gone.

When Angel got Lorne off to the side, he asked the question that had suddenly become paramount in his mind. "What was that all about? What do you know about Cordy?"

Lorne hedged a bit, "Look, Angel-cakes-"

"Talk!" A pause. "Please..."

The Host sighed, his instincts telling him the guy could be trusted. "Fine. Thing is, I did a reading of your buddy Alexander Hall - and by the way, I really kinda doubt that's his real name - back in July. And sorry, but I saw the gravestone with her name on it, already."

Angel almost freaked out at hearing that, as he was now *very* protective of his secretary/seer. "How does it happen? When? Where?"

The Host shrugged, "I don't know. Honestly, I truly don't. I got the feeling it's not immediate, maybe a few years down the road, although mind you that's just a feeling. But you want to save her? Sing for me. It's the only way I can help."

"There are three things I don't do: tan, date - and sing in public!"

Lorne shrugged again. "Lotta pride you got there, pilgrim. Isn't that the thing that comes before a fall, though?"

Desperate, the Champion decided to go with a line from 'Mandy' by Barry Manilow; "Oh, Mandy. Well you came and you gave without taking, but I sent you away, oh Mandy. Well, you kissed me and stopped me from shaking-"

"That's enough," Lorne interrupted, writing an address. "Go here, Mr. Broody Dark Avenger. Tell the Transuding Furies I sent you, and that'll get you in through the door. The rest is up to you."

The vamp stared at him, and then started to depart. Wesley saw him and called out, "Angel! Where are you going? Merl's ready to tell us about the Prio-"

But ignoring him completely, Angel nearly ran out of the club in his haste to get to his destination.

**The penthouse suite of the Transuding Furies, Los Angeles, California. Half an hour later**

Angel knocked on the door, after breaking every conceivable traffic law in the country in his rush to get here. The door then somehow opened by itself; and testing the doorway, Angel found no invitation barrier was present. He went in and met the sisters, "Ah, hi. I'm Angel-"

"Mmmmmm, Angel," the Furies chorused.

The guy would have blushed, if he'd been human. "Lorne sent me here, but I guess you already knew that, right? Okay, I, uh, I'm trying to save a friend of mine-"

The Furies said in turn, "We already know why you are here, and what you want."

"We have the knowledge you seek, and more."

"But there is a price to be paid for it."

Angel was confused, "Price?"

"Mmmmmm, Angel," the sisters said in unison.

The vamp quickly got the idea. "Ah, ladies, not that I'm not flattered, but see - I don't think I'm the kind of guy you'd be interested in, 'cause a moment of perfect happiness-"

The sisters simply stared at him, and the Champion suddenly got a feeling of dread running down his spine. He realized then, that these girls weren't exactly human. The trio just said in turn, "We know all about your curse, and will do nothing to break it."

"But debts incurred must be paid."

"That is part of why we are permitted only to share our favors with the Champions for the Powers, such as yourself and Alexander."

Now the vamp was somewhat confused. "Who are you-" Then he got an epiphany, "Xander?!"

The Furies purred, "Mmmmm, Alexander."

Angel looked ill at the implications as the first Fury said, "You and Alexander Harris are brothers in spirit, if not blood. The messenger called Doyle served you both, as will one of his successors. Now, do you agree to our terms?"

The vamp started to try to haggle, but quickly got the feeling that there was no other choice when they simply shook their heads every time he opened his mouth. So Angel eventually nodded, "Fine."

The second Fury went to a desk and got out a letter, marked 'Angel' and gave it to him. The ensouled vampire tore open the envelope and started to read...

_Dear Angel,_

_Hey there Deadboy, how've you been doing? Okay, I hope..._

_First of all, I'm fine, don't worry. I probably got you pretty concerned for a while there being all incommunicado, but as you've no doubt guessed long before now - our little plan of me hiding in Canada till 2003 was a bust, even before I thought of it. _

_Because apparently, there were a lot of people who knew Xander Harris was still alive, and I got captured by one of said groups back in 1999. Still, I got lucky; they acted relatively decent towards me. And funny thing; somehow, I'm still not sure exactly how it happened, they eventually convinced me to join up with them of my own free will._

_I know, I know; he's gone insane, you're thinking to yourself, they're just interested in his knowledge of the future. But thing is, I met an 11-year-old super-genius named Irving Hollins, that I think can be trusted to make the right choices here; because he's...well, think an exotic combination of Willow and Giles, without the ick factor._

_Plus everything I tell him, I consider *real* carefully before sharing with the Wizard. So far, it's all worked out okay; and to be perfectly honest, I'd rather be trying to do some good in this sorry world like you, than spending the next three years asleep in some government lab somewhere!_

_Since you see, DB, there's something really bad headed our way. Bad, as in a lot of people dying at the same time. It's not something that either the Scooby gang or Angel's Avengers can handle; no demons or vamps are involved. Just good old-fashioned evil humans._

_The group I hooked up with can handle them without breaking a sweat, well - maybe a light sweat. It's the kind of thing they're supposed to do. There's this one guy, who when he's in a bad mood...well, let's just say not even Angelus would like to meet up with him in a dark alley somewhere._

_They're also protecting me from everyone else who wants to rip my mind open, and see all the future goodies coming our way. The Watchers Council, Wolfram & Hart, French intelligence and a whole bunch of others have tried to snag me; so, basically, their protection comes in handy..._

_By the way, thanks for sending Gunn and his people to save my ass not so long ago, buddy boy. The people I'm with still aren't used to dealing with the magic mojo, so the Watchers managed to slip one through. If it wasn't for you, right now that asshole Travers would probably be roasting my balls in his fireplace, like a pair of marshmallows! So I owe you, big-time. And in the spirit of this sharing moment, there's some stuff I gotta tell you._

_Namely? Angel, the odds are that Cordelia's gonna be dead by 2004, if she continues on with the path she's travelling right now. _

_Well, despite personal feelings I figure she's important to you and you wanna save her; and oh hell, all right, I'll admit deep down I don't actually want her, Willow or Buffy to die either..._

_Look, what happened exactly is that I met this demon named Lorne in this place called Caritas; and believe it or not, I already knew who he was, as he's gonna be a good buddy to you and your little Fang Gang in the future. He read my destiny, and the green guy saw me in that other world with that goddamn eyepatch, paying my respects at her grave in LA around then. I'm guessing she's gonna have a vital role to play, to have been in the vision; so just in case I can't do anything about it, you do what you gotta do to save her in the future, okay?_

_Speaking of the future...listen, I wasn't gonna mention it because of the possible dangers, but as I said; I owe your undead self big-time. And there's also the fact I've been convinced that this new world we're all making is virgin territory, and you DESERVE to know about this, as it affects you so deeply._

_So, here it is: you're gonna be a father. Over a year from now you're gonna have a human son, named Connor. And no, I'm not nuts; I remember it all clearly..._

_Okay, maybe I don't know everything; because hey, we had our own apocalypse concerning the First Evil to worry about, during 2002 and 2003. And there's this really odd thing that I knew about your son, then I didn't remember about him around the time of the final battle against the First. But whatever, I *do* know that Connor is the miracle child, born to two vampires._

_You...and Darla._

_Oh yeah, that's right; you and her are destined to do the nasty, when she comes back somehow. Not saying I'm pleased about that, of course; she killed my best friend Jesse back when all this crap started, after all. But I figure since you got a son out of it and didn't become Angelus then, well, what the hell. Knock yourself out with her, but please be careful not to get *too* happy._

_Unfortunately though, Dad, I got some bad news to balance out the good._

_See, Connor was born towards the end of 2001, if I remember right; but when Wills visited you guys at that hotel to re-ensoul your ass during March 2003, he was physically 18 years old and to quote my former friend, your "handsome, yet androgynous son". How that happened, I don't know; and as I'm writing this, the only thing I can figure out to answer that question...isn't something that sits well with me._

_Yep, you've probably already guessed it yourself; Connor's destined to follow in good ol' Uncle Xander's footsteps, and grow up in a hell dimension. I hope to God I'm wrong, but I got me the funny feeling that I'm not. And Darla wasn't there anymore, either; so to quote the X-Files - TRUST NO ONE, pal. On account of growing up in a hell world is a fate I wouldn't wish on anybody, let alone the helpless child of a friend. And I know whereof I speak._

_Well, uh, guess that's it for now. You take care of yourself, Deadboy, as well as your crew and Connor; hopefully we'll meet again just like we planned, in the summer of 2003. Till then, vaya con dios..._

_Your friend,_

_Xander Harris_

Angel was stunned, and collapsed onto the edge of the couch. { This isn't happening, is it? I-I-I gotta be dreaming. Cordelia dead, within the next four years? Darla...and Connor...and I'm destined to lose them both, as well as lose my soul again by 2003? }

The three Furies, getting annoyed at his lack of cooperation to seal the deal, dragged him into the bedroom and started to remove his clothes...and what happened in the room after that, was no one's business except their own.

**U.S. military aircraft, 30,000 feet above Detroit, Michigan. The same time**

Oz stared at a sight he'd never thought he would see. To be honest, it had stunned him so much that he had almost let the amazement show. Luckily though, Oz's self-control was strong enough that his stoic nature was all that the others saw.

And that sight was? Xander Harris studying.

When the guy called Cleburne had shown up at the door of the apartment that Oz was sharing with his old friend, he had said that they might be gone for a while - and the Wizard wanted to be sure that the kid took his books with him.

After some grumbling and a suggestion from Cleburne that the books could otherwise become surgically attached to his ass, Xander had gone into the study/den he had set up and brought out a satchel full of books.

Oz knew that Xander had gotten serious about his studies, the first part of the senior year of high school. He had assumed though that all that had fallen by the wayside, when Xander had returned from that hell dimension. The werewolf watched silently as he saw proof of his error in thinking.

To Oz's amazement, Xander had diligently studied on the flight to Detroit from Virginia. The others on the plane had started playing cards, but Xander had gotten into a corner by himself and started hitting the books. The others had also allowed Xander to study in peace, by keeping it down as much as possible.

Oz looked out of the plane's windows, and saw the night skyline of Detroit. { Lot of changes been happening lately in my life. Gonna take me a while to used to them all. }

"Hey, Wolfie."

Oz looked around, and saw that Cleburne had walked up behind him. "Hey. Mother Hen." One of the first things that Xander had told Oz about the Siberians was Cleburne's nickname, and the two of them had gone to town on using it since.

Cleburne glared at the werewolf. He had been doing that quite a bit the past few days. "Question for you, newbie..." The agent had not yet decided on a nickname for Oz yet.

Oz nodded. "Go ahead."

"This wolf inside you, the kid tells me that you went to a monk who taught you how to control it?" the secret agent nodded over at the studying former Scooby.

"Yeah. Somewhat. I can control when the transformation takes place and what people, well enemies, I go after."

"Yet you wolfed out, is that the term?" Oz nodded in response to Cleburne's question. "You wolfed out back in Prague. You weren't in control then. Why exactly was that?"

"Well, that time in the alley, I didn't really lose control. Sure I hadn't planned on changing, but when I realized that it was Xander in trouble, the wolf just sorta came out. Still, I never really lost control then; during the fight, it was me in control of the beast inside, not the other way around."

Cleburne nodded. "Okay, I can buy into that since the wolf didn't treat anyone in the alleyway as a doggie snack; well, except for the vampire that is. However, what happened at the airfield? You definitely did not look to be in control then."

Oz looked out the window at the night sky. "Well, I'll admit I lost control there."

"I gathered that, but why *exactly* - and more importantly, will it happen again?"

"As to why? You were there. You heard what was said."

Cleburne listened to Oz's response, but wasn't satisfied. He didn't know the whole story of all that had gone on back in Sunnydale. He knew bits and pieces, but Xander had been very tightlipped on a lot of his personal history. The male agent made a mental note that the newest addition to the Siberians could possibly be someone who could fill in the gaps for him, and to one day work that angle...

Oz continued, "Will it happen again? I don't know. That's twice something like that has ever happened. Sometimes, when emotions run really high and I'm taken off-balance by something, my control slips."

Cleburne nodded. "So, when emotions are running high and something knocks you off-kilter, you lose control. Well, I hate to mention this, but I think that describes just about every combat situation I've ever been in."

Oz actually suppressed a smirk at that comment. "Well, I suppose that's true."

"Damn straight it is. Look, the kid over there vouches for you, and that counts for a lot. He trusts you with his life. He's known you a lot longer than any of us has, so he cuts you quite a bit of slack..." 

Oz waited, already halfway knowing where this conversation was going. { Subtle, this guy is not. }

"Now, I trust the kid. He's yet to steer me wrong. However, I don't know you well enough to risk the lives of everyone else on the team. So when the shooting starts, you need to hang back. After all, you're an advisor - not a field agent."

Oz looked nonplussed at that. "I can handle myself in a scrape."

"Sure you can, however I don't want to see what happens if your control slips. 'Cause as much as the kid likes you, if it comes down to the safety of my people...well, you can guess what I would have to do. I wouldn't like doing it and would probably get really drunk afterwards, but I would still do it. Ask anyone."

Oz looked at the senior Siberian. "So I just sit on the sidelines? Shouting advice from the bench?"

"At first. I assume you have exercises to increase your self-control?"

The human with the inner werewolf nodded. "Yeah, Shantou taught me several. He said over time, that my control should increase."

"Good, keep doing them. I'll also schedule you training time for you to learn the secret of combat."

Oz raised an eyebrow. "I always thought that was not to get killed."

"No, the key thing in combat is not to get excited. Excitement makes you slip up, and causes mistakes. That gets you killed. Beserkers are the easiest foes to handle in a battle, 'cause they're so addle-brained they can't think straight."

Oz then looked over at Xander. "I've got to admit, I'm surprised to see him hitting the books," he said calmly, changing the subject.

"Well, the Wizard is quite demanding of his students. I know that if I let him slack off on studying, I would very quickly regret it."

"When do I meet this Wizard?"

"Soon, Wolfie, soon."

Just then, the intercom clicked on. "Thought you all might want to know, we're on final approach. So settle up your card debts, and fasten your seat belts."

**141 Embury Street, Los Angeles, California. The next evening**

That evening, Angel showed up at Cordy's place after taking a long walk upon sunset. He'd visited many places he'd known from the past, including the Hyperion Hotel, swimming in the memories and trying to come to grips with all that Xander had warned him was coming.

But in the end Angel just walked through the front door, looking thoughtful. Focused. Silent.

Cordelia started to berate him at once, demanding to know where he'd been. "What the hell is your problem, mister? We had an emergency to deal with, and you bailed on us! Totally flaked out! You're damn lucky that pregnant woman wasn't killed!"

Angel just raised his eyebrows. Wesley then said, "Angel, she's quite right - that was totally unacceptable, you not even phoning us like that! And you're very fortunate nothing untoward happened last night. You see, we were mistaken about the Prio Motu demon, and he was actually a good guy that successfully defended his charge in the Cahair Binse..."

He noticed the vampire was no longer paying attention. "...and by the way, Angel, have you noticed that your pants are on fire?"

The Champion said nothing, still lost in his own world, and Cordelia whacked Angel just above the ear. "Hello? We're talking here! Our lips are moving and-" she broke off at his expression. "What is it?"

Angel just said to Wesley, "I've learned some...disturbing stuff. So I want you to do two things. First, research any and all prophecies you can find on a so-called human 'miracle child', destined to be born to two vampires."

Wes frowned, "But vampires can't have-"

"I know. That's why 'miracle' is the operative word here. But it's gonna happen, according to a source I trust without question. So, I want us to be prepared."

Wes shrugged and nodded, forgetting about the anger as the Research Boy was unable to help contemplating which avenues to explore first, making a note to query Angel later as to who this source was. "As you wish. And, uh, the second thing?" he asked, after pulling himself together.

Angel said softly, staring at Cordy, "Find out how we can transfer Cordelia's visions to someone else."

**Private hangar, Detroit International Airport. The next morning**

"Hey kid, I'm sorry. But how was I supposed to know that that pipe was the sewer line for the entire building?"

Xander just glared at Cleburne. "Sure. That's why I can understand the first shot, but the second one?"

"That vampire was still moving. These new bullets we were trying out clearly need some work on them."

"Yeah, I'll be sure to write a memo to Marcum on that point!" Xander responded with a degree of sarcasm.

"That's not a bad idea," Cleburne said, pretending not to catch Xander's sarcasm. "However, you can also tell the Wizard about it when you meet with him tomorrow."

Xander raised an eyebrow. "Back to meeting with the Wizard now?" 

Cleburne nodded, as he checked his bags. "Yeah, there are several questions he's stockpiled to ask you. He also wants to eyeball Wolfie here." Cleburne pointed at Oz.

"Don't call me that," Oz said simply, in a remarkable imitation of Rupert Giles. Xander hid a smile, remembering Giles' reaction to always being called 'G-man'.

Cleburne looked over at Oz. "Whatever. Wizard still wants to talk to you. He was saying something about wanting to see if your test scores were really that high. Or if they were just a statistical fluke."

Oz raised an eyebrow to that. He all of sudden noticed Xander blushing at the word 'fluke'. "What?" he asked simply.

Xander shook his head. "Fluke, uh - the term, it-it just meant something entirely different to me, once upon a time. I-I'll explain it to you later." Oz nodded at that, and added another thing to ask his friend about when they had the 'talk'.

Cleburne glanced out of the hangar's door, and saw that their plane was ready. "Come on people, unless - kid, you want to spend another hour in the shower? I'll have you know I was betting on you spending three hours in there. I lost money when you puppied out at a hour and a half."

Xander looked over at Cleburne. "No, I think I got it all out. Besides - Gunny needs the money, for all the stress pills I'm causing him to buy..."

Cleburne shrugged his shoulders, and led the team to the plane. { Who says Gunny is the only one? }

**Rochefort Institute of Strategic Planning, Urbana, Illinois. The next day**

Xander led the way into Hollins' office. Behind him came Oz and Cleburne, who was carrying a shopping bag. At the other end of the office sat the Wizard, at his workstation.

"Hey, Whiz! Miss me!?" Xander called out to the child genius.

Hollins scooted away from his workstation, and swiveled his chair to face the newcomers. "Mr. Harris. I'm glad to hear that your time in Europe and the Holy Land did you some good. You got a little sun, I see..."

He then looked at Oz for a few seconds. "I see you've also acquired a new traveling companion." The child stood up, and headed over to the new arrivals.

"Hey, Mr. Wizard. Brought you something back from Germany," Cleburne said, as Hollins approached.

"And that would be?" Hollins asked.

In response, Cleburne handed over the shopping bag. Hollins looked in and smiled, "Ah, thank you Joshua. I look forward to adding it to the layout in the basement."

"You're welcome," Cleburne said simply, as Hollins placed the bag on his desk.

Hollins then turned his attention back to Oz. "Mr. Osbourne, I am in fact very pleased to meet you. I am Dr. Irving Hollins, at your service. I suspect that Joshua here probably described me to you as the Wizard." He held his hand up to Oz for a handshake.

"Yeah, they mentioned something about you. You're younger than I expected," Oz commented.

"Well, I get that a lot. I also must admit that you're not what I expected, either. Considering all the computer companies that are currently looking for you, I estimated you would be more like Bill Gates than a musician. Foolish of me, to be sure."

Cleburne raised an eyebrow at Hollins' comments. "Computer companies?"

"Yes, all of the big ones are looking for him to offer gainful employment. Microsoft has even gone so far as to employ a private investigation firm, to try and find the man. And the less said about Dante Industries, the better."

"Why's that?" Xander asked.

"Dante Industries was the corporation that hired that mercenary, to try and kidnap you. We tangled with them a while back, and they came out holding the short end of the stick," Cleburne commented.

Xander remembered the reference back in Germany to the nine people who had died over the secret of his existence as Cleburne continued, "It's not public knowledge, of course, but its board of directors is made up of either demons - or humans who've made a deal with demons. We're still unclear on that point."

"Oh, this keeps getting better and better," Xander commented. "Hey, what about Bill Gates?"

Hollins shook his head. "Oddly enough, despite the beliefs of computer hackers all over the world, Microsoft was not given any help from demon sources. All the glitches in the Windows platform are strictly manmade."

"That's kinda reassuring and depressing, all at the same time," Oz commented with more than a trace of irony - to those who could detect it.

"Yes, the human condition can be both comforting and terrifying at the same time," the Wizard responded. "However, before we completely divert our topic of discussion to one of philosophy, Mr. Harris - let us please discuss your recent trip away from home."

For the next two hours, Xander described his time overseas. The discussion went beyond just a general discussion of the trip. Specific events were dissected and reviewed. The effectiveness of particular weapons and tactics were debated. Oz chipped into the conversation when the hellhounds were mentioned, telling the others about the experience of Prom night.

The redheaded werewolf also described his activities since he had left Sunnydale. And Oz had certainly been busy! Hollins chose not to dig in too deeply into the events of when he had been in the town that was the location of the current Hellmouth. { That's more something for a time when Mr. Harris is not present and vulnerable, } flashed through his mind.

Xander also described how the trip to the monastery of the Order of Dagon had gone. Oz had actually shown a glimpse of amazement, when the tale of Dawn and her true nature was revealed. It turned out that Oz had definitely been affected by the spell, as he had memories of the younger Summers daughter, who had always been there. A quick query of Cleburne showed now that he also remembered the Slayer having a younger sister, from the debriefing sessions back in '99.

"You know, it *really* creeps me out to know that that spell by those monks has messed around so much with the stuff in my head," the secret agent commented.

"Granted though, not all that much to mess around with up there," Xander joked, which earned him another glare from the senior Siberian. { Geez, lighten up man, you keep that up and your forehead is going to be wrinkled for life! }

The situation with the Watchers in Germany was also discussed. "I must admit that Mr. Travers is quite persistent. And he seems to have taken all this personally, a situation that does not bode well for the future," Hollins commented.

"Well, I've got a few ideas that might take care of that. They'll require a lot of planning and some time to put together, though. In the meantime, Cummings and MI-6 can keep acting as an early warning system for us," was Cleburne's response.

"Good, that will suffice for the near future. Mr. Osbourne?"

"Yes?" Oz responded to Hollins' question.

"I have heard and read good things about your abilities. I'm also sure that you will be an excellent addition to our operations in the field. However right now, I want to *pick your brains*, so to speak. Are you agreeable to that?" Hollins said

Oz glanced over at Xander, who nodded his head in approval of Hollins' request. "Sure, I'm game," the werewolf then said simply.

The child genius smiled. "Good. Tell me then, please, all about lycanthropes."

**Sunnydale, California. September, 2000**

He turned the pages of the tome in front of him. He had been researching ceaselessly for almost two years now...ever since he had learned of the death.

When he had first heard of it from the others, his entire world had been shaken to the core. Because he hadn't ever expected anything like that to happen; as the entity in question had been eternal. Something that been around long before the human race had been born, and even before the sun had burned hot in the sky...

She had been supposed to fulfill her destiny, not die at the hands of petty filth.

He noticed the fire was dying down, so he walked over and threw another log on it. He then stirred the embers to keep the fire going. He pulled his bathrobe tight around him. Even in southern California, the nights could get chilly.

He walked back over to the desk to resume his reading. The demon known as Doc then cogitated for a second, { Don't worry, Glorificus. I'll find a way to fix this, or die trying... }

TBC...


	12. Chapter 12

**Part Twelve**

**Rochefort Institute of Strategic Planning, Urbana, Illinois. September, 2000**

Internal Memorandum EYES ONLY - ULTRA MAXIMUM SECURE

To: Dr. Irving Hollins, University of Chicago

From: Colonel Joshua Cleburne, USMC

Date: 09-04-2000

Re: Use of firearms in response to vampire presence

_Dear Wizard,_

_As you know, I've been reviewing the post-op action reports of the various field teams lately. As such I am greatly concerned at the spotty, at best, effectiveness of the various firearms STW deploys against the hostiles._

_I know that Lemke's favorable reports on the use of wooden bullets in April of this year, reflected his great success in using that source of munitions. However, we must remember that before he came to us, Lemke was a sniper attached to Delta Force._

_He was also using the ordnance under controlled conditions, from various sniper posts. We have been unable to duplicate his success rates under non-controlled combat situations. Wooden bullets clearly only work if they hit the exact spot desired; hit a vampire anywhere else, and it's no more effective than an insect's sting._

_In addition, I'm sure that Mr. Harris has related to you our recent experience in Detroit. The ordnance with tips of holy water is clearly painful to the targets, however the staying power leaves a lot to be desired. The second bullet, despite what Mr. Harris says, was necessary to put the target down._

_The only ordnance that has been consistently effective, are the dragonbreath rounds for the 12-gauge shotguns. These rounds have the effect of turning any shotgun loaded with them into a one-shot flamethrower. However, their range is limited to approximately two yards, and the rate of fire is extremely inefficient. _

_Also, shotguns are not at all ideal for use in a situation requiring concealed weapons._

_This situation has not gotten critical yet, as the operatives we are using are of a caliber that hand-to-hand combat with vampires is not grounds for concern. However, pursuant to our recent discussions, circumstances could very well arise shortly where the forces facing the supernatural threats could be of a quality where close combat would not be desirable._

_I plan on discussing this matter with various field operatives in the near future. Any input you might have would be greatly appreciated._

_J.E.C._

**UC Sunnydale, Sunnydale, California. September 10, 2000**

Willow pulled the covers up on the bed. Tara was studying at the library, and the redhead had finished her studying. She didn't need to be at work till tomorrow, so the Wiccan basically had some spare time.

She had originally wanted to look up things in a spellbook, but at the last moment the young woman had decided to forego magic for the night. She'd then remembered the book that Lemke had given her; and Willow was still curious as to who the men with her boss in the picture were. Lemke had said they were mentioned in the book, so it was time to investigate.

Willow leaned over the bed, and felt underneath it. Her hands found what she was looking for. Then she pulled the book up, and put the covers back where they had been. Ms. Rosenberg looked at the book's title:_ Blackhawk Down_.

"Well," she said out loud to herself. "Let's see what there is to learn about these Gordon and Shughart guys..." Thus Willow then started reading.

**Thirty minutes later**

"Sweetie?" Tara said, as she entered their dorm room.

In this new world they were all making, Tara and Willow had become roommates when Buffy had moved back into her old house. The Buffster had definitely not been happy about leaving her dorm residence...

However, Joyce had been insistent and oddly enough, so had been Giles.

Willow looked up from her book. "Tara, you're back!"

"Yes, I-I think I've looked at my economics textbook as much as I can tonight. I personally don't understand how Anya honestly reads that stuff for fun," Tara put her book bag on her desk.

Willow shook her head. "Anya is...well, strange, that's the best word for it. I think she needs a boyfriend or something. Otherwise, she might wind up channeling Donald Trump or someone like that..." A panicky look showed on Willow's face. "You don't think she will, do you? Or that she *is*? That might explain a lot..."

Tara laughed, and slid under the blanket that covered Willow. She hugged her girlfriend, "I don't think we have to worry. Besides, even if we do, we should hold off on doing anything until we get a great apartment out of it." She glanced at the book Willow was holding. "What'cha reading?"

"The book Josef loaned me."

"Oh, the one where those guys in the photograph are mentioned?"

Willow nodded. "That's the one. The book's about those Special Forces guys in Africa, back in '93. I'm thinking that if Lemke was involved with them, he's been involved in something more than 'a little bit of this, a little bit of that and nothing exciting'! These guys are the ones they make movies about."

Tara nuzzled up next to her girlfriend. "Hmmmm, your boss is a man of mystery?"

Willow put a bookmark between the pages, and put the book on the nightstand. "Well, I'll save that mystery for another day..." she smiled at her girlfriend, as the two then began to fool around.

**Pine Bluff, Arkansas. September 11, 2000**

{ One year, } Xander thought to himself. { Or to put it another way - 365 days to go, until 9/11. } The latest session he'd had with the Wizard had covered the events of that day in detail.

Harris had been alone with Oz, Cleburne and Hollins in Urbana a few days previously, and after finally managing to get rid of an inquisitive Rachael they had finished up talking business. "Are you absolutely sure the north tower gets hit first and then the south one, and not the other way around?" Cleburne had asked.

"I'm sure," Xander had growled out, and the older male agent had taken the not-so-subtle hint to shut up about that.

Oz had just shaken his head in private amazement, while the child genius brought the meeting to a close. "Well, I think that's quite enough for today. Gentlemen, I won't keep you any longer from your pressing appointments elsewhere..."

And as the visitors had turned to go, Hollins had called out, "By the way, Mr. Harris...happy birthday."

The trio had instantly frozen, and then turned around. "Xander's birthday is in April," Oz had said neutrally, while the other two looked puzzled.

Irving had simply shaken his head. "I'm sorry if I haven't made myself clear, I know exactly when the man's birthday is. However, I was referring to his physical age, not the date of his birth..."

Seeing the puzzled looks, Hollins had briefly explained, "Mr. Harris, you were born in the April of 1981, so therefore you were 7 months past your 17th birthday - when you disappeared into that hell dimension. Subjectively, according to your own estimates you were there for 55 months; and yet, you arrived back in this world only a few hours later in the November of 1998. That would make a sum total objective existence of 22 years and 2 months, then. And according to the calendar, therefore, that would make you 24 years old today. So, again...happy birthday."

Cleburne had looked amused, staring at the former slave - who'd had a stunned look on his face. But then Xander had just seemed to shrug after thanking the Wizard, and turning around he'd walked off - forgetting the whole thing, as Joshua followed. But Oz had just stood there, watching their departure with an inscrutable expression.

{ Xander Harris...24 years old. But he's supposed to be what, 19 1/2 now? It's like I'm really seeing him for the first time, ever since...it happened. The teenager I knew, who was a year younger than me - he isn't around anymore. Instead, there's only a friend with the scars from going through nine levels of hell, to quote Wesley way back then... }

Oz had then quit his musings and caught up with his companions as the Siberians, even though they still had a year to go, were busily getting ready for the big day. There were building plans to check, airports to monitor, people to find...

Focusing back on the present, Xander knew that the intelligence-gathering apparatus of the American intelligence services had been concentrating on al-Qaeda with a frightening clarity. Every month or so, Cleburne would show up with a list of names and ask if he recognized any of them.

It had taken a few times for the former Scooby to realize that the names were of those that STW thought might be the hijackers. The secret agency was tracking every single suspected terrorist it could find, casting its net far and wide. Xander felt a little uneasy at times over this, as it smacked just a bit too much like '1984' for his comfort. But then the young man quieted his discomfort, by remembering what was coming in a year's time...

Which was not to say that his hosts weren't ignoring the threat from the supernatural. Which had led to Xander sitting in the passenger seat of a Crown Victoria right now, outside a service station in Pine Bluff, Arkansas.

"Let me see if I got this straight again..." That was the middle-aged balding FBI agent, who was sitting in the driver's seat. "Vampires are real?"

"Yep." That was Gunny, who was sitting in the back seat with Oz.

"Demons?"

"More of them than you would think," Gunny spoke again.

"Witches?"

"Yep, and some of them are quite nice people to know," Oz answered.

Xander suppressed a smile and glanced back at the werewolf. "What he said."

"And all this is interfering with my investigation, why?"

"Well, Agent Fletcher, that methamphetamine ring you've been investigating - it's somehow connected to a vampire gang we've been tracking."

"The Poynter boys hooked up with vampires. It would explain why their competition has been showing up missing." The sarcasm was unmistakable.

"It would indeed," Gunny remarked dryly. In fact, it had been the rumors of vampires involved in the drug trade in Arkansas that had brought the agents to Pine Bluff.

A car with tinted windows drove by the service station. "There they are," Fletcher remarked, as he pulled the Crown Vic to follow their prey.

They followed the car for over twenty minutes, Fletcher keeping well back, but not far enough back to lose their target. Finally, the pursued turned into a parking lot, with the night lit up by the streetlights. Three grungy-looking characters then got out of the car...

{ Oh yeah, they really blend in down in the Deep South. No wonder they have to wait till after sunset to come out! } Xander watched, as they walked away from the vehicle.

Fletcher parked his car a good distance away. They all got out, and looked at the vampires in the distance. "What now?" asked the FBI agent.

"We follow them," Gunny replied. He started walking after unsuspecting undead across the large parking lot. "You know, one day I'm going to have to ask Mother Hen why everyone around here shops at this place..."

Xander looked up, for the first time really seeing the store they were heading into. It was a Super Wal-mart. "You have *got* to be kidding me. In there!?"

Gunny shrugged his shoulders. "Guess vampires need to shop like everyone else..."

**Twenty minutes later**

Xander hurried down the aisles, seeing if he could spot the last vampire. Somehow, ten minutes ago, the undead Americans they had been trailing had caught onto the fact that they were being followed. So they had decided to try and attack those who were shadowing them.

The plan would have worked fine, if it had been regular police following their asses. However, since it was someone who knew they were dealing with vampires...the lead bloodsucker had met a stake to his heart for his trouble, after sneaking up on Oz.

Because sneaking up on someone with the olfactory senses of a werewolf was not something anyone who was undead, not to mention brain-dead, should ever try.

The other two vamps had fled when they'd realized that the ones following them knew what they were, and how to handle them. Gunny had dispatched the second vampire in sporting goods a few minutes ago.

But that still left the one that Xander was now stalking. He methodically checked each aisle for a sign of the vampire. While doing so, he caught glimpses of Oz at the back of the store and Fletcher at the front, cutting off the avenues of escape for the target.

He tried not to seem too rushed as, even though it was after two in the morning, there were still several customers in the store. A group of young Hispanic men walked by Xander, jabbering away in Spanish. { Kinda funny; all the time I spent living on the Hellmouth in southern California, I didn't see all that many Hispanics. It's almost as if they avoided Sunnydale, like the plague! Then again, maybe they all knew more than they let on... }

Xander noticed that Gunny was coming up to him. "Any luck?" he asked the Siberian.

"No. However, wherever he is, he has to be on this side of the store. We've got the exits sealed, so we just have to flush him out."

"Okay, so how do you want to do this?"

"Well, I guess we do it from the back of the store to the front. Osbourne will do a better job of dealing with a vamp, than good ol' Agent Fletcher. We'll just scare him into Osbourne's waiting stake."

He and Xander started working each aisle in the grocery section of the store. They were halfway up the store, when they encountered an older woman with a hair style that for all the world looked like a white beehive had been put on top of her head. She was pushing a cart full of groceries along.

As they walked past her, Gunny turned to the senior citizen. "Ma'am, I'm wondering if you could help us. We're looking for a young man, wearing black, kind of grungy-looking? His face may have been deformed, somewhat. Did you happen to see him?"

The old woman looked at Gunny. "You mean the vampire, right? He ran down this aisle and turned left, towards the back of the store."

"Thank you!" Gunny said as he hurried in the direction indicated, Xander following after him.

"Hey, wait a minute, how did she know he was a vamp?" Xander asked Gunny, as they got to the end of the aisle.

"PHD," Gunny commented, as he looked around. "There!" he then shouted out, as he caught a glimpse of their quarry. The vampire was trying to hurry to the back of the store, without appearing to be running.

Gunny ran after him, not caring anymore if he was spotted running or not. Xander ran after him. "PHD?" the former Scooby managed to say, as he ran along.

"Pentecostal Hair Dew. That beehive hairdo of hers and the fact we're in Arkansas tells me that she's probably a fundamentalist-"

Up ahead of them, the undead guy headed towards a pair of swinging doors that led to the stock rooms. Suddenly Agent Fletcher came through those doors, both he and the vampire being completely surprised by the other's appearance.

The vamp recovered first and swung with his right fist at the FBI agent, its left hand clutched closely to his body holding a blue bag. His fist connected before Fletcher could react, unfortunately; and the human fell back through the doors.

The vampire ran through them, only to somehow trip over Fletcher as he fell. The bag he was holding quickly skittered off to the side. The vamp tried to get to his feet, but it was too late; before he could do so, Gunny and Xander had arrived at the entrance of the stock rooms.

Xander instantly hit the bloodsucker in the face, with a sweeping kick Cleburne had personally taught him. His undead opponent staggered back, again falling over Fletcher who was now trying to get up. The two of them were tangled up. After a few seconds of wrestling, the vampire managed to get loose and he started to get up after shoving the human aside.

Only to meet the stake that Xander's arm was sending downward towards the soulless demon's heart. The vampire's eyes grew wide, as he quickly exploded into dust after a vile curse involving the f-word.

Xander looked up at Gunny. "Okay, now why would her being a fundamentalist make a difference?"

Fletcher scrambled to his feet, suppressing his own curse. "What the-?!" he started brushing the dust off his coat as he stood up. { Shit. These guys aren't crazy, or just spinning a yarn! They told me...the truth? So all these years...when I was on Bureau surveillance detail at nights...I could have gotten attacked or killed by a goddamn vampire?! }

Gunny ignored Fletcher and his shattered world-view. "Oddly enough, holy rollers seem able to accept the existence of demons and vampires. They just have trouble accepting that some demons might be not of the evil variety. If they ever knew about that place in Los Angeles we went to, I think their heads would explode! Ask Cleburne to explain it sometime, he speaks their language."

Xander shook his head. True enough, sometimes he too had trouble remembering that all demons weren't evil. His experiences as a slave in the hell dimension sometimes came close to overshadowing his future memories of Anya and Clem.

Gunny walked over to the side, where the bag the vampire had been holding had come to rest. He bent down, picking it up. A look of confusion then came across his face, as Mr. Rose looked into the thing. "Uh, do vampires get colds?"

Xander glanced over, and saw why Gunny was confused. The bag was full of cold medicine. "Not that I know of. Other than being dead, they always seem to be in great physical condition." As he finished saying that, Oz walked up.

Fletcher looked over, having regained his composure. "Uh, I can explain that. The cold medicine gets broken down to recover the ingredients needed to make methamphetamine. These...vampires of yours must have been stealing or buying it, for the Poynter boys to cook up meth with."

"Well, what do you know. Still - I suspect, Agent Fletcher, that you'll have a much easier time dealing with that gang, now that their vamp allies are dust bunnies," Xander commented. { Man, drug-dealing vampires? This new history just keeps getting stranger and stranger... }

**Los Angeles, California. September 15, 2000**

Angel maintained a state of full awareness, as he walked down the alley. For he had been on edge, ever since he had gotten Xander's message last month. He knew that the other shoe was about to drop, just not exactly when.

The Champion for the Powers had privately examined the young man's letter many times in great detail, to try and figure out more information - after that first shocking session in the apartment of the Furies. But he had finally given up, when he'd realized that Xander just didn't have the knowledge that the ensouled vampire was looking for. Angel had then also realized he could only do what he would have done, if he hadn't gotten the letter; just wait for events to unfold.

Angel really wished though that in that past history of Xander's, the former Scooby had come with him to the City of Angels - instead of staying there on the damn Hellmouth. That way, he would have known more details of what was to come. Could have also known what to tell him, on how to deal with Wes and Cordy...

The former Angelus had definitely upset the female seer that night in her apartment, and Cordelia had stridently and repeatedly demanded to know why the hell he wanted to strip her of her vision powers. Angel had fobbed her off with a story that his source had simply told him she needed to get rid of them; and when Cordy had demanded to know just *who* this source was...

"Cordelia, I can't tell you that."

"Can't or *won't*?"

"Fine, won't. Because believe me, it's safer this way. That person is being hunted 24/7; and whatever you two don't know, can't be tortured out of you later - if the bad guys ever find out you know of his existence. And these people do *not* fool around, from what I've heard. There is no such thing as being overly-paranoid here..."

Both Wes and Cordy had paled at hearing that, and no longer pushed the issue. But on the question of paranoia, both humans had heard a lot more than they wanted to on that subject, when the trio had confronted a Thesulac demon in the Hyperion Hotel - which was now the new headquarters of Angel Investigations.

Fortunately, the damned thing had been destroyed and the hotel reclaimed by the ensouled vampire, as he'd stayed there during 1952; but Angel, Wes and Cordy had all heard things from the demon they'd wished had remained private. Cordelia on her inferiority complex; Wesley on his parental issues, and Angel on his fear that everything Xander had told him would come true...

For all of it *had* started, Angel was pretty sure about that. He had been having dreams for the past few weeks. And not just any dreams, but vivid dreams of Darla - and other things, that he thought about almost every moment he was awake. Not since the dreams that the First had caused him to have, had Angel been so unsettled by the past.

The souled vampire had no way of knowing that Wolfram & Hart had been so concerned over the events centering around Xander Harris, that they had accelerated their plans when it came to the only ensouled vampire in the world. Darla had been invading Angel's dreams now, for quite some time...

The law firm's brute force approach hadn't worked back in May, so now it was going to try subtle means and begin by fomenting dissent within its enemies. Not a bad approach, to be sure; as the worst enemies are never the giant demons with slavering jaws, but rather the monsters of the mind - that weaken and fight you, from within.

Even now, Darla was watching Angel from above. And she also knew it was finally time to confront the vamp that had staked her with a soul in his heart, three years ago.

Reborn as a human after the ritual of the Raising, the blonde woman had been almost catatonic - and certainly incoherent - for weeks afterwards. But slowly, it had all come back; Virginia. The life of a whore. The Master. True freedom at last, and becoming his favorite for 150 years...

Liam. The alleyway in Ireland. Welcoming Angelus into her world. Presenting him to the Master. Over 140 years of bliss...

Then Romania, and the curse. Those damned gypsies. Him finding her in China, with Dru and Spike...

Forcing the issue and driving Angelus away - oh, what an idiot she'd been back then! If only she'd kept her dear boy at her side...the former prostitute knew now she would have soon given him that moment of happiness he'd needed, to get rid of that filthy soul. Darla was sure of it.

Because over the last two weeks where she had been lying naked in bed with him and hitting the Champion with that Calynthia powder, he was becoming more and more hers. Darla could feel it; and just last night, Angel had enjoyed their dream dancing so much he'd rolled over on top of her in the bed - and made Darla a *very* happy woman, all throughout the midnight hour.

Angel turned the corner of the alley, and surveyed the street. Several teenage runaways were scattered up and down it. { I might want to let Lily know about the runaways gathering here. A visit by her will probably help them- }

"Hello, lover..." a sultry feminine voice said softly behind him.

{ Hey, how did someone sneak up on me?! } Angel thought, as he turned to face the newcomer. The response he had started to form died on his lips though, when he saw who it was.

His sire, Darla.

Luckily for him, Xander's warning about her upcoming return into his life had softened the blow of seeing her again. Angel was able to respond to her within a few seconds, before he took a big sniff...

"Darla, been a while. Nice to see you're not all dusty anymore," he said in a matter-of-fact voice. Then Angel frowned a little, before staring into her eyes, "You're human now, though. Wasn't expecting that-"

Darla couldn't believe how calm Angel was. Then she smelled it..."No! You still have that damn soul? But - that's not possible!"

The blonde was definitely unable to believe she'd failed to make him happy. "And why the hell are you being so utterly calm, about seeing me again?! You staked me for that bitch of a Slayer, *remember*?"

Angel was getting a little suspicious now. "Sure I remember. And why am I being calm? I've got my reasons. And sorry to disappoint, but you've definitely got me mixed up with that monster who happens to wear my face-"

Darla calmed down a little. "Oh no, dear 'Angel'. We've had this conversation before. I can recognize him within you, I always could. My love's still in there, and I *will* find a way to bring him out..."

Angel was nonplussed. { She wants Angelus back? Oh, come on! } Still, he remembered Xander's warning about losing his soul with her, and adjusted his stance somewhat. "Look Darla, I'm not really into the nostalgia thing right now. I've got things to do, people to help, villains to slay. So unless you've had a personality makeover, guess I'll catch up with you later on."

Darla was almost floored by Angel's reaction to her. {The miserable cur, Lindsey was right about you, *Angel*, no matter how jealous he got today over the fact that you got lucky last night - and obviously don't even know it. Of all the - we were together for nearly 150 years, damn it! You'd think there would be more of a reaction than, 'guess I'll catch up with you later on'! } "So, tell me Angelus. Is that whole brooding thing still going strong for you?"

Angel looked at his sire and former lover, now in human form. "Sunnydale was a long time ago, sweetheart. Tell you what, Darla..." He pulled out his wallet.

{ What's this? Since when does he carry a wallet? } Darla thought, as she watched her former childe. { He's changed, definitely. And I don't like that. It makes my little revenge scenario a lot more complicated... }

Angel handed the AI business card to her. "Here's my card, already. So call me, when you're ready to talk about something other than the horrors we committed over a hundred years ago."

"You bastard!"

But Angel simply walked off, as Darla stared at him in open-mouthed shock. { Oh, Lindsey and the others are not going to be happy about this... }

**Washington, D.C. September 19, 2000**

Internal Memorandum EYES ONLY - ULTRA MAXIMUM SECURE

To: Dr. Irving Hollins, University of Chicago

From: Esther Marcum, Office of the National Security Adviser

Date: 09-19-2000

Re: Request for Project Barsoom records

_Dear Dr. Hollins,_

_Your request for the results of the Project Barsoom studies has been received. My apologies for the delay; at first, I was unaware of any such project. However, once I read your letter through in its entirety, I was able to determine which were the appropriate agencies to refer your query to. And once the requests arrived at the Air Force and NASA, the manner in which they reacted led to this memo and my concerns._

_Would you be kind enough to let us all know why you need a psychological study from the late 1960s, concerning mass hysteria and cultural phenomena?_

_E.M._

**St. Louis, Missouri. September 20, 2000**

"Let me get this straight. You think you can bring out my soldier memories through hypnosis?"

"Yep," Cleburne answered Xander's question. "Face it, kid. They've been fading more and more lately, just like what happened to you...well, y'know, before. The eggheads seem to think it'll work, and maybe also bring out some of your traits from when you were possessed by that Hyena spirit."

"You know about that?" Xander asked, as he took a sip from his cup of coffee.

The two were sitting in a restaurant for the Holiday Inn they had spent the previous night in. The remains of their breakfast was on the table in front of them. Graham Miller, sitting opposite them and reading his morning paper, seemingly ignored the conversation that Cleburne and Xander were having.

"Oh, yeah. Remember, we've been reading Mr. Giles' Watcher diaries. He wrote all about your possession - privately, he thought it was a bit of a hoot! You know, his journals are interesting reading. You ought to read them sometime yourself..." Cleburne took a bite of the sausage pattie on his plate.

Xander inwardly cringed. "Just what exactly is in them?"

"Everything you can imagine; all the vampires, demons and doomsday scenarios you'd expect from the Hellmouth, and how your friend Buffy Summers dealt with them all. Fascinating stuff! There was this one thing I enjoyed reading about, on how she came up with this idea of using a rocket launcher against some demon called the Judge-"

Cleburne then noticed Xander's scowl. "What?"

"Question for you, Cleburne. Did your people get the original copy of what G-man wrote, or the *official* Watcher diaries? 'Cause I'm guessing it was the latter."

Joshua started to get uneasy. "There's a reason why you think there's a difference, between the two?"

"No comment. Just outta interest though, is there anything else in there on me?" Xander asked, trying to be nonchalant.

Cleburne glanced at the kid, understanding. "Well, nothing personal, if that's what you're worried about. I mean, he wrote a little about you dating those Cordelia Chase and Faith LeHane girls. No, actually, it doesn't really say that - the guy just sorta hints at it. The reader has to know the background, to put all the pieces together. Bottom line, it doesn't really give anything away about your personal life."

"Good. Don't want you knowing too much about me," Xander said with a clipped, dismissive tone.

The secret agent glanced at the former Scooby. { You bet your ass I want to know more about you, beyond what Mr. Giles wrote! On account of it would explain a lot about your personality. Damn it, what's it going to take to get you to trust anyone besides the Wolfie? Well, maybe the Wizard can pry some information out of Osbourne... } "So, about the hypnosis thing?"

Xander scowled again. "Hmmmmm, let me see. You want me to let a super-secret government agency put me under hypnosis. Let someone I don't even know have access to my mind...? No frickin' way! Come on, tell me your bosses wouldn't try to take advantage of the situation!"

Cleburne shrugged. "Well, I wouldn't, but I can't speak for the eggheads and the suits."

Xander stared at him. "Okay, when you *can* speak for them? Talk to me about it then. Because trust is a very tricky thing, in this business."

"Come on, kid. Aren't you being just a bit paranoid, even for you?"

Harris just stared at his companion. "For the record, if you or anyone else gets any funny ideas? You may as well put me to sleep alongside that mind-reader kid you once told me about, for the next three years. Because you will not get another single thing outta me! Even worse, I will spread disinformation in every direction, at every possible opportunity. Do you understand me?"

Graham Miller lowered his paper in shock, while Cleburne just maintained a poker face. But he privately thought, { Damn. And to think I thought we were past this sorta crap! I wonder what brought all this up again? }

Just then, part of the reason why joined the three men at the breakfast table. "Good morning, all..." Rachael Weitz fluttered her eyelashes at Xander, in her habitual expression of teasing charm.

But that was the last straw for this morning, and something inside the former Scooby's mind simply went 'snap'.

Getting up, Xander grabbed Rachael by the arm and ignoring her protests, dragged her away.

Cleburne almost got up to intervene, till he saw where Xander was taking her. He then leaned back in the chair, and took out his cell phone. Miller looked at him, "Aren't you going to do anything about that?"

"Nah, they can both handle themselves. Besides, I think the kid needs to work some issues out. I'll give them a few minutes." He dialed a number on the phone, and waited as it rang. "In the meantime...Esther? It's Joshua here, I need that thief of yours to do a job for me...nope, it shouldn't be too hard to pull off, I just need some books from a guy's apartment."

Meanwhile, Xander dragged Rachael into the men's restroom - along with a chair that the propped up against the door, to give them some privacy.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" Rachael demanded, losing the charm as Xander faced her.

"We need to talk, Weitz. And it's long past time."

The Israeli woman hesitated, now suddenly unsure what was going to happen. "What do you-"

Xander interrupted, "You gotta stop with the act."

"What act?"

"No more games, Rachael. You know who I really am. Have done, from the moment we met. And I'm betting you also know about the dead girl that I loved, who you so happen to resemble. You want to get me into bed, and relay the pillow talk back home? Stop trying to work that angle. Because I'm telling you right now, ain't never gonna happen."

The Mossad agent was stunned; she hadn't expected Xander to be so blunt about this. But then life and people often have a way of surprising the hell out of you; so she went with the flow and quickly said, "Look, Xander Harris-"

"Don't use that name again. Bad habit to get into."

She rolled her eyes, "Fine, *Alexander*. What do you want me to say? That I have a secret agenda? Okay, I do, but then in this game everybody does - including you! You want me to say that I don't find you attractive, that you're just an assignment to me? Sorry, but that would be a lie..."

Xander started pacing, as just like when he'd talked to the guy called Doyle so long ago...he knew she wasn't lying to him. "Rachael..." Then the former slave stopped and faced her. "We come from two different worlds. Even if I was interested-"

"Oh, come on!" Weitz interrupted. "Israel and America aren't *that* different-!" Then she noticed Xander was *smiling* at her. "What?"

"You just proved my point, sweetheart. Because I wasn't talking about that! See, you weren't born and raised on a Hellmouth; and you still live in a world where, deep down, you can't help believing that somehow humans are definitely at the top of the food chain. Me?"

Harris turned away slightly. "I lost that particular mind-set, a *long* time ago. I was 15 years old, when I first found out about the things that go bump in the night. Killed my first vampire then, who used to be my best friend. I grew up with the knowledge that there are things out there, which consider me nothing but ripe, juicy, tender meat..."

Xander walked to Rachael, who fought not to shrink away from his burning gaze. "So, here's how it's gonna be from now on. The sexual predator act is history. Just be yourself, unless you want me to kick up such a fuss that your government will instantly haul you home to try something else, with someone new. Otherwise, you may as well pack your bags right now. Are we on the same page already?"

For the first time *ever*, Agent Weitz scowled and swore. "You bastard!"

But Xander just laughed, and to her surprise briefly hugged the dark-haired woman. "Now that's more like it!" Then he unblocked the door and left, leaving Rachael staring after him in open-mouthed astonishment.

**Sunnydale, California. September 21, 2000**

Willow Rosenberg stirred. {Funny, this doesn't feel like my bed. Why is it so cold? } She reached down to try and find the covers, to pull them up. Only problem was, she couldn't find any covers.

Muzzily, Willow tried to remember what had happened. Then it all came rushing back...

Two nights ago, she and Buffy had finally found out about Tara and Jonathan's magic activities, after deciding it was no fun watching a Chinese kung fu movie by themselves. And however bad her own reaction had been, it had been *nothing* compared to Buffy's little tantrum!

But Tara had stood firm, which was yet another reason why Willow truly loved her soul mate. The older woman had stated that she was sorry Buffy was upset, but this was the way it had to be; for the blonde Wiccan lived by the rule which stated "An it harm none, do what ye will". And it was her responsibility to bring Levinson into the fold as whether the Chosen One liked it or not, he was part of the magical community now and Jonathan's powers were definitely growing under her supervision and tutelage.

Well, in the Slayer's defense it was true that Buffy hadn't had it all that easy lately. No boyfriend, arguing with Dawn a lot, and her mother all quiet and introspective; heck, even Giles had been pretty distant lately. And there was that thing over inadvertently taking her little sister to a murder scene...

Even though there had been no crazy people on the streets this time, the owner of the local magic store had still been killed by a pack of vampires - who oddly enough, were just bored with their un-lives. And Harmony Kendall had been in Mexico City, failing miserably to become the Big Bad...

Well, as a member of the Scooby gang had once said, the owners of that place had a shelf life shorter than that of a Spinal Tap drummer. But Giles was determined to change all that, after getting a look at the books. Plus after becoming enamored of the store Anya had started hounding him to buy, in partnership with her, what was now known as the Magic Box - as she intended to declare it as a school project and thus make a handsome profit, yet still get a tax write-off on it all.

Focusing back on the present, the redhead opened her eyes, and looked around. She was still in the junkyard that she, Buffy, Tara and Giles had gone to the night before. Willow suddenly remembered the appearance of a large demon, one fitting the description of the creature called Toth that had attacked Giles the previous day in the Box, and him pointing a staff in Buffy's direction...

She subsequently remembered jumping in Buffy's direction, and then waking up here. Willow now looked around in a panic, to make sure that the rest of the Scoobies weren't here with her. {Okay, no sign of the others. That's either a good sign or a bad sign, I'm not sure which one it is just yet. }

The former crush of Xander Harris pulled herself to her feet, her body aching from the night spent on the hard ground. { Better check on the others, after I go home and take a shower, } she thought as the redheaded witch headed to the dorm room she shared with Tara.

And when she finally got there, Willow Rosenberg got quite possibly the shock of her life.

**Apartment B, 523 Oak Park Street, Sunnydale. Later that night**

Gwen Raiden crouched low, outside the apartment complex. {You know, these new employers of mine are definitely crazy. Still, they pay well and I avoid time in a Federal prison, so guess I can't complain too much. } Thus the so-called Electra Girl figured that for now at least, she'd stick with the deal and keep taking the money and jobs from STW.

That was why Gwen now found herself skulking around in this lovely little town. {Thank you very much Esther Marcum, for telling me vampires really do exist! And there are *way* too many of them around here for my taste. Why can't I get assignments to the French Riviera or something? Well, it could be always worse; and as bosses go, these new guys are decently hands-off, at least. }

Her previous employers, apart from the one known as Mr. Ashet, had been quite unsympathetic to her work ethic. They had wanted to tell her what jobs she could take, when they should be done and a cut of the profits as well. She took all the risks, and they wanted their fair share? Gimme a break!

At least these government boys, and Gwen knew they were connected to the U.S. government somehow, didn't want any of her profits. She could continue doing jobs on the side, but of course part of the deal was they had veto authority over what jobs she accepted. As they really didn't want something incomprehensibly powerful and apocalyptic falling into the wrong hands...

All she had to do was the odd job for them, about once or twice a month. Most of the time, they just wanted books and the like. Every once in a while, a charm or some other mystical item instead. Nothing too serious, so far. Gwen got the feeling that they were still testing her, seeing if she could be trusted.

This job was a bit strange, though, a little different than the others. { Fifty thousand dollars to break into some stuffed shirt's apartment, grab some books, copy them and then return them. And by the way, he can't know that the books were ever *borrowed*... }

It hadn't looked like the job would be all that difficult, at first. But then she'd discovered...

{ If only the Brit and his damn groupies would just leave! } It seemed that one or more of them were always in there inside the condo, reading one of the books that seemed to completely dominate the apartment. { Don't these people have lives? If something doesn't happen soon, I'll have to break in while he's asleep. And that's always tricky, what happens if he wants to get a midnight snack? }

Suddenly, there was a commotion in the apartment as the occupants of it came rushing out, and started running towards where the parking lot was. The hidden Gwen waited a short while to make sure they were leaving, and then moved towards the residence to take advantage of the sudden opportunity. { As they say, never look a gift horse in the mouth. As well as - ask, and ye shall receive! }

**UC Sunnydale, Sunnydale, California. Fifteen minutes later**

Buffy blasted open the door to Tara and Willow's dorm room, hoping she wasn't too late. They should have figured out what was going on sooner. "Tara, don't do anything stupid! 'Cause they're both her. Willow, I mean-"

The three individuals in the room looked at Buffy. Tara looked confused, which was quite understandable; for on each side of her was Willow. To her left was a Willow dressed (as Cordelia used to say in high school) by *the softer side of Sears*. To Tara's right was another Willow, dressed all in black; and even her hair and eyes were black in color. She just stared at Buffy with a look of smug superiority.

Buffy caught her breath and continued, "Neither one of 'em is a demon, we were wrong; that lameass demon from last night used some kind of doohickey to split her into two parts!"

Giles, Anya and Jonathan then came through the door, being slower since they didn't have Slayer speed. "That's right, the-the demon Toth, he wanted to split Buffy in two so it would be easier to kill her. Kill the weaker half, y'see, and the other also dies-" the former Watcher spluttered.

The Willow in black spoke up, the other one seeming to retreat away from all the commotion, "So, kill the weak one and the strong one perishes? Hmmm, I'll have to do something to fix that." She looked around, "Speaking of the lameass demon, where is it right now?"

As if in response to her question, the window to the dorm room shattered as Toth jumped into the domicile. He looked around, and spotted Buffy. The last of the clan then raised the rod he had used to split Willow, and pointed it at the blonde Champion. "I will not miss again, Slayer!"

The Willow in black looked bored. "_Incindere!_" she said with an air of indifference, as a bolt of fire flew from her arms and hit the demon full-on.

Toth turned in surprise, barely having time to raise his arms as he went up in flames; screaming, he disappeared in a column of fire that then disappeared and left an ugly scorch mark on the floor. Dark Willow subsequently waved her hands and the sprinklers, which had started to come to life, went back to their dormant state.

"I didn't want to get wet," she explained simply, barely deigning to notice her audience.

Giles looked at Dark Willow with undisguised amazement. "The rod must have split all of your magic abilities into this persona. I-I-I never knew you had such untapped power-"

"Well, now you do," was the arrogant response.

Buffy looked at her best friend, well one of the versions of her best friend. "Don't worry Will, uh, Wills. We'll, we'll get you back to normal soon-"

Dark Willow turned, and looked at Buffy with disdain. "Excuse me? Just for the record, I don't *want* to go back to normal. And you know what the funniest part is? There is no power known to man, that you can use to make me."

TBC...


	13. Chapter 13

**Part Thirteen**

**Sunnydale, California. September 22, 2000**

Josef Lemke walked down the street towards his bookstore, idly reading the newspaper he was carrying. He had a full day at work planned; a new shipment was supposed to come in today, including a new batch of the Harry Potter books. Granted they weren't Josef's first choice of reading materials for children, but then he had to admit that they got the young ones reading, which was half the battle here.

He turned the corner, and his attention was instantly drawn to a young woman dressed all in black. Josef almost paid her no mind, till he got a closer look...

"Willow?" Lemke then asked, with some hesitation. He had never expected her to try out the Goth look!

Dark Willow turned and looked at the Pole, but said nothing. She had strolled out of the dorm the previous evening, casually ignoring everyone's attempts to stop her like brushing aside a bothersome insect, and was basically feeling invulnerable - after blasting to pieces various demons and vampires throughout the night, and getting a handle on her new powers.

"Are you all right? You weren't out all last night partying, were you? I can tell you from experience, that you pay for it the next day," Lemke tactfully didn't mention that the experience came from large groups of drunken soldiers and secret agents.

Dark Willow regarded Josef with a superior look. "I've never felt better, Josef. Because there's so much power within me, now. Coursing through my veins, it's a...it's a real rush. Ya know what? I finally get Buffy now..."

Lemke now was really worried. { Don't tell me that Willow went and did drugs? } The undercover STW agent again moved forward towards the black-clad witch.

She then looked at him, and Josef got a good look at her black eyes. He saw the complete lack of any human compassion and instantly stopped as Willow started to speak again, "No concern of mine. I'm beyond you."

With that, she turned around and walked away, leaving Lemke in shock. After a few seconds, Buffy came running out of one of the nearby alleys. She saw Lemke, knowing him from the times she had stopped by his bookstore. She ran up to him, "Josef? Mr. Lemke? Have you, uh, seen Willow?"

Josef nodded in the direction that the super-witch had walked off in. "She went thataway. Um, is she all right? She looked - strange..."

Buffy hurriedly thought for a second. "No, uh, some goofball in the dorm thought it would be a great joke to feed her some...special brownies, if you get my drift. Now I have to find her to make sure she doesn't hurt herself!" With that, Buffy ran off in the direction that Willow had gone.

{Special brownies? Oh, please, come on, that was no marijuana effect! } Lemke cynically thought to himself, as he started walking towards his store at a quick pace. {That is most definitely Hellmouth-related. I better make a phone call... }

**The Magic Box, Sunnydale, California. The same time**

Giles hurriedly unlocked the door to his new business. He held it open and allowed Tara, Nerdy Willow, Jonathan and Anya to enter. He then closed the door behind him, after the Brit himself entered.

"I'm sure the spell we're looking for is in one of the books I brought over yesterday. Look in the boxes marked 'personal books'!" Giles motioned at a collection of boxes in the middle of the showroom. The Scoobies hurriedly started pulling out books, and looking through them.

"I hate to ask this-" Jonathan started to say.

"So then don't! Like we don't have anything better to do, than listen to an unsatisfied virgin like yourself?" Anya snapped.

Jonathan continued on, as he had learned that it was best sometimes to just ignore Anya. "Uh, what exactly do we do when Buffy gets Willow back here? You saw what she did, her power is beyond all of ours..."

"W-w-we'll do what we have to. I can't believe that there's nothing of Willow in there that we can't reach," Tara replied.

"But, if she doesn't want to be-" Jonathan started.

"Mr. Levinson!" Giles snapped. "We'll worry about that, once we have the re-integration spell ready. So keep looking for it. The sooner we find it, the better!"

Jonathan nodded sheepishly at Giles' reproach, and went back to flipping through the various books he pulled out of the boxes.

**20,000 feet above the Blue Ridge Mountains, Virginia. Ten minutes later**

Xander wrote down the final notes from the recent assignment sent to him by the Wizard. Unfortunately for Harris, the child genius was fully conversant in pure and applied mathematics and expected the same of his students.

Irving had also prevailed upon several other professors at the University of Chicago to join in on remote-teaching Xander and the other Siberians, who were furthering their education. Therefore, the man currently with STW was getting assignments in a myriad of academic disciplines.

Xander had noted from the number of subjects he was doing, that he might actually be eligible for a college diploma under his new alias by early 2003. {Huh. Not too bad, for someone whose parents told him that his greatest accomplishment in life would be working as a burger jockey at the local Double-Meat Palace! }

Across the aisle from his, Cleburne was sleeping in one of the seats, while Graham Miller and Rachael Weitz were resting in the cabin chairs behind them.

Cleburne's sleep was suddenly disturbed, by the buzzing of the phone on the console off to the side. The secret agent reached up and grabbed the phone. "What?" he almost growled into it.

After listening a few seconds, Joshua straightened up. "Yeah, he's here with me, why do you ask?" He listened for about 30 seconds...

Cleburne then covered the receiver with his hand, and leaned over to Xander. "Hey, kid. Your friend, Willow Rosenberg? She's dressed all in black, dyed her hair completely black and her eyes are glowing black. Just wanted to ask, do we need to be worried?"

**Greenbear Office Complex, Sunnydale, California. Thirty minutes later**

Gwen Raiden sighed to herself. The downside to her stealing the books was that she had to copy them. And copying them meant that she had to obtain a fair amount of privacy, for a long period of time. She didn't think that she could spend hours at Kinko's copying Rupert's diaries, without attracting any attention! And it would be just her luck that the British guy, or one of his teenage helpers, would wander through and spot the reading material.

So, she had gotten creative. Gwen had used one of STW's shell companies to rent an office suite here in town, and had had furniture and supplies delivered there. If anyone had had asked questions, which *really* wasn't likely in this town, they would have been told that an import/export business was getting ready to open up shop in the suite.

As it was, she had not been bothered all morning ever since she'd arrived back with the books. And now, the thief was about three-fourths of the way through her task.

{You know, if this guy didn't spend so much time writing down every single thing that's happened around here, I would've been done long before now! You don't see *me* writing down everything that happens to me during the day. Which is a good thing, as that way I don't leave any evidence behind for a Federal prosecutor to use! }

Gwen had become exasperated early on, at the sheer volume of work. So, her solution to the problem was to take a digital photograph of each page of the diaries. She had even brought along a spare digital camera, in case something went wrong with the original machine. Luckily though, the camera was powering along just fine and would have the job done soon.

Ms. Raiden glanced out of the window in sheer boredom, and looked at the park across the street. She saw a girl dressed all in black stride into it. Gwen didn't think anything of the matter though, and continued on photographing the invaluable Watcher diaries.

**Weatherly Park, Sunnydale, California. Fifteen minutes later**

Buffy ran down the trail. She had been tracking the badass version of Willow Rosenberg that seemed to have gone all über-witch in a bad way, for some time now.

{This is bad, really bad!} the Slayer thought to herself. {A Willow with superpowers and a-a-a mega-superiority complex. What else could go wrong? } Buffy then winced, as she realized that she may have just jinxed herself.

The blonde suddenly spotted another sign that Dark Willow had been this way; a ring of scorched earth. Buffy grimaced at that. Willow was definitely gaining in strength. The Chosen One slowed down for a second, to catch her breath.

"It has to be hard to be so human, don't you think?"

Buffy turned around towards the source of the comment, and saw Dark Willow staring at her with that look of smug superiority she had more-or-less worn nonstop ever since the separation of her two halves, via the ferula-gemina. {Okay, here goes nothing! }

"Will, you need help-" Buffy started to say to her oldest female friend.

"Help? Why would I need help? Buffy, I understand the magic now, all of it. I can do things I could only ever dream about before..." The pure Wiccan started walking around Buffy in a circle. "I only have to imagine it. Then I can use the power I have, to just make it happen. There's no limit to what I can do now - except maybe raise the dead? That's kinda tricky. But trust me, what I know I'm capable of...it's quite intoxicating!"

"This isn't you, Willow..." Buffy said with an almost pleading tone to her voice.

"Oh, is the big bad Slayer upset because I'm upstaging her power trip? She's no longer the center of attention. The world doesn't revolve around her anymore..." Willow stopped, folded her arms and stared at the Slayer. "Well, boo-hoo. I have to admit, it's a nice change for once not to be the sidekick of the story."

"You're not a...look, we can help you Willow. Just-" Buffy almost whispered.

"Again with the helping thing? Oh my Goddess - it's like, in the past your personal crises always seem to involve us, the Slayerettes I mean, and somehow seem to lead to a possible end-of-the-world deal. Friends come up for sacrifice..."

For a second Buffy thought she saw some emotion in the witch's face, but then Dark Willow continued on, "We always run around consoling you, soothing your feelings. Reminding you that you'll win in the end because you're special, because you're the Slayer. But the funny part is, the sun that is Buffy just can't seem to worry too much about others. Xander on that sidewalk, being a case in point."

"Will..."

"Although, I get it now. Really, Buffy, I do. With all that power, we must have seemed like nothing more than annoyances. Pets, at best. You just couldn't be bothered to really notice us. But, now? Well, the shoe is on the other foot. We both know that I'm so far beyond you at the moment - I could end your life, with just a thought - that it has to be pretty damn upsetting for you."

Buffy instinctively took a step towards Willow, but stopped when the black-haired girl glared at her. "Willow, that demon...he did something that affected you. Made you like...this. I can't ever see you being this way, without some kind of dark magic mojo going on-"

"You mean - I could never be someone that really mattered to you, as a person? I'm supposed to always be Doormat Girl, a supporting cast member of the Slayer story?"

"No! Look, Willow, you're in danger. Don't forget that demon wanted to split me in half, so as to kill the normal human version of me. Remember? Kill one half, and the other half dies too? You're...the other Willow is out there, basically unprotected..."

Dark Willow cocked her head to one side. "Right, I forgot. Yeah, the weak one - that nerd gets killed, and I die too. Can't have that now, can I? Thanks for reminding me, Buff; I'll have to do something about that, pronto."

With that smoke began to curl up around Willow's body, as red fire flashed in her eyes. And just like in a world where Tara Maclay had been murdered by Warren Mears, lightning appeared as her whole body dissipated into smoke. After a few seconds, Dark Willow vanished from sight - airborne, and on her way to her other self.

"Oh, *crap*!" Buffy muttered to herself, as she started running out of the park. {That did *not* go according to plan! }

**U.S. Air Force transport aircraft, 30,000 feet over Missouri. The same time**

"Kid."

When Cleburne had asked Xander the question about black-eyed Willow, the former Scooby had almost instantly commandeered the plane to head for southern California, and to hell with the coma-inducing headaches. Only Cleburne making it abundantly clear that their plane did not have sufficient fuel to make the trip nonstop, had convinced Harris to go along with landing, refueling and getting back in the air - in record time.

Now that the plane was en route for Sunnydale, Cleburne's concerns over Xander going back to his hometown were overridden by the former Slayerette's veiled hints that this version of Willow was really bad news.

And Xander, trying to figure out what had caused Dark Willow to emerge, had been so wrapped up in thought that he hadn't noticed Cleburne sitting down next to him. "Yeah?" Harris answered to the comment, without looking away from the window.

"Just wanted to say, I know there are some things you don't want to let us in on, and I can understand that. However, based on your reactions just now, I think we've come to a point where I need to see some more behind the curtain. I have my suspicions, but I need them confirmed if we're going into a hot LZ."

Xander turned to face the secret agent and nodded. "I guess so. A little peek may be in order."

Joshua nodded too. "Well, I gather Willow Rosenberg is the witch who tried to destroy the world in the future. Me and Marcum kinda figured that out, back in San Francisco. You told us then, that the trigger for all that was the guy called Warren Mears. Now, we both know that he's dead. And yet, here we have Little Miss Über-witch on the prowl! Any idea on how this happened?"

"Best guess is, something must have happened to Tara."

Cleburne thought for a second. "Tara Maclay, right - Lemke's mentioned her as coming into his bookstore a few times. That's what set Ms. Rosenberg off the first time?"

"Yeah. Warren stormed into Buffy's backyard, blasting away with a gun-"

Xander then noticed Cleburne had a disapproving look, at the use of the word 'gun'. Xander remembered from some of their sessions on the firing range that the USMC colonel had referred to them as weapons or pistols, but never guns. {It's probably a Marine thing. Eh, whatever} he quickly thought, as the guy then continued to gather his thoughts.

"Well, Tara was killed by a stray bullet. Willow went all revenge-y, and got a bunch of dark power to hunt Warren down. She killed the asshole after she flayed him alive, but that wasn't enough. The power had...corrupted her, is the best way to put it, and Will eventually figured she would end everyone's problems by ending the world."

Cleburne nodded and looked around; they had the front of the cabin to themselves. Rachael, Graham and Gunny (who had joined them at the airport) were all in the back of the plane, giving Xander a wide berth. "So, what stopped her from doing so? Or is she the big evil we should be expecting, in 2003?"

"What? NO! And as for how we stopped her..." Xander paused, not wanting to give everything away about what had happened on Kingman's Bluff that morning. "We didn't, she stopped herself. I almost got killed that day talking her down, granted-"

"What if you can't do that again, without collapsing in pain along with the screaming-in-agony thing? I remember you saying that being close to people you have duplicate memories of, before the date you last saw them, leads to problems for you. So if worst comes to worst, what do you suggest we do?"

Xander turned away, to Cleburne's great consternation, and looked out the window again. What he was about to say, would have appalled and disgusted his former teenage self - but then, that Xander had died off a long time ago, both from the whips of the demons and with the passing of the years.

So the former slave and determined survivor said simply, "Get Marcum to call the President, and be ready to drop a nuke on the Hellmouth."

**The Magic Box, Sunnydale, California. A few minutes later**

Buffy flung the door open to the shop, without slowing down. "Giles, everyone! Willow's on her way here to-"

"We know!" Giles shouted out, interrupting the Chosen One. "We know, Buffy." And the sight that greeted the Slayer did not fill her with confidence.

Dark Willow was on one side of the store, pacing slowly. On the opposite side from her was the Nerdy Willow, trying to stay as far away from her counterpart as possible.

In the middle of the room, stood Giles and Anya. They had drawn a large circle, and placed candles around it. Giles had a book in his hand, and was flipping through the pages furiously. "I-I-I would go and lose my place, at a time like this!"

Dark Willow took some more steps around the room. "Come on, you can't really be planning to defend her, can you? Look at her! She's such a burden on everybody. Just let me take care of this, I promise it'll be best for everyone concerned!"

But suddenly, standing in front of the normal-looking Willow was Tara and Jonathan. And both of them looked determined to defend their charge to the bitter end. "L-l-leave her alone. This isn't right," Tara stammered.

Dark Willow looked at Tara. "But sweetie, once she's taken care of - it'll be all you and me. Just imagine what I can do for you! With you. *To* you!" Tara gulped at the feral tone in Willow's voice.

"You leave her alone. You're not doing anything to anybody!" Jonathan stated, with a degree of firmness that surprised the Scoobies in the room.

Dark Willow regarded him for a second. "Little man, you picked a hell of a time to grow a spine! Just outta interest, what do you intend to do to stop me?"

"Whatever it takes. You're not harming Tara and Willow."

"But I *am* Willow. Don't you recognize me, Jonathan?" the über-witch said with a smirk.

"You're not the *real* Willow, Darth Rosenberg. You're a part of Willow, yeah, but not the real deal. And I know that, because I've known her nearly all my life - certainly much longer than anyone else in this room. You're just her inner demons, come out to play. You know what you basically are? A false face, with all the magic ability - that's all."

Dark Willow couldn't help it; she burst out laughing. "Oh, this is too rich. The nerd is actually trying to stand up to me? What's next? You think you can take Buffy in a fight?"

Jonathan glared at her, with a nerve born from Tara's friendship and tutelage. "If she ever lost it the way you have, Witchipoo, you better believe I'd try..."

Dark Willow leaned her head back and laughed again, in genuine amusement. Buffy used the distraction to launch an attack at the witch. {Well, talking hasn't worked so far, maybe I can restrain her long enough for Giles to do his thing...}

Her attack caught Dark Willow off-guard, and knocked her through a bookcase. {Just stay down! }

But Buffy's desire was not granted, as a figure in black climbed up from behind the broken bookcase. "Oh, so now the Slayer wants to learn what real power is? I think I can squeeze in some time for tutoring." The witch advanced so quickly that Buffy barely had time block her punch, that nonetheless sent her flying to the front of the store - knocking over a display case.

"Hey! Careful with the merchandise!" Anya yelped indignantly.

Dark Willow ignored her, as she advanced on the blonde Champion. "You know what, Buffy? I bet that has *got* to hurt. How long has it been since you faced someone able to give you a run for your money, anyway? The Mayor? Angelus? Been a few years, hasn't it?"

The black-haired woman then easily blocked the punch that Buffy sent her way. However, as strong as Dark Willow was, she was not as skilled as the Slayer at unarmed combat. Therefore, she didn't expect the roundhouse kick that Buffy sent almost right after the punch; the kick connected hard, and its intended target was knocked backwards.

Buffy ran forward and pressed her advantage. As much as she hated to do it, she held nothing back; because this version of Willow was too strong to try and play games with. And this point was proven to her, when a bolt of electricity hit Buffy full-on and flung her back to the ground.

Dark Willow turned her attention back to her mundane counterpart. "Right, now as for you..."

Yet before she could do anything, Tara and Jonathan chanted a phrase in unison and a green shimmer appeared in front of them. "A mystic shield. I'm impressed! Tara, your lessons with Jon boy have definitely been more productive than I thought," Dark Willow smirked.

"I won't let you harm her!" Tara said nervously.

"Harm her? Uh, what made ya think that was my plan? Because hey, honey, I know better than that! Believe me, she'll be perfectly safe when I'm done. No one will be able to get to her, *literally*, when I put her out of phase with the time stream - permanently. 'Course, she might end up completely nuts from being alone for the rest of her life; but hey, who cares if she goes all fruit-loopy after a few years?" Dark Willow smirked *again*.

"Willow," Giles had finally found his place in the magic book. "You mustn't do this. We, we need to re-integrate you again, as soon as possible. You-you-you can't survive in the long term, as two separate halves-"

"Geez, Giles! Give it up already. You want to diminish me, make me what I was before. Well, screw that! To quote Jerry Seinfeld, I can't go back. I *won't*!"

As she finished her statement, Dark Willow sent a bolt of power into the shield that Tara and Jonathan had erected. It flared for a second, but held up - barely.

Before a second bolt could be sent towards its target, Buffy popped up next to the super-witch. "Willow, we just want to help you!" And with that, the young woman sent a vicious punch into her friend's face that sent her staggering back.

The punch actually drew a little blood, as Dark Willow looked surprised. "You know, Buffy, you have a funny way of helping people - Slayer-style! I bet you'd make one heckuva high school counselor..."

"Willow, stop. Listen to what we're saying! Giles knows what he's talking about, you have to go back-" Buffy almost pleaded.

"WHY!?" Dark Willow seemed to be losing her temper. "Give me one good reason why I should go back to *that*?" She pointed at the mundane Willow. "Just look at her. She's weak, pathetic. Pushed around all the time, and afraid to stand up for herself!" the black-clad Willow glared at her counterpart.

The witch ranted at the hacker, "All those years of taking abuse from Cordelia and her sheep, I wanted so much to hurt them for it - but you wouldn't *let* me! And then sophomore year and beyond, what do you do? You become nothing more than Buffy's sheep! Following her lead. Doing anything to get into her good graces. Even the unthinkable..."

Dark Willow actually seemed to darken a little bit more, if that was possible. "You - no, *we* - were in love with Xander Harris for all those years, right from the first day in kindergarten. The yellow crayon boy, huh? You were mooning after him, even before you realized you were doing it; but me, *I* knew what I wanted straightaway. Still, you held me back on that as well; you never, *ever* had the courage to let me tell him how we felt. You just locked yourself away in your room, and planned your marriage to him from when we were six years old..."

"You, you leave Xander out of this," Nerdy Willow said abruptly. And they were the first words she had spoken, ever since Buffy had gotten to the Magic Box.

"Leave him? Oh yeah, let's talk about *that* subject now, shall we?! Because you certainly did that, didn't you? And don't try to deny it; we left him there lying in the gutter, that horrible night. *I* wanted to take Xander home, but *you* turned your back on your oldest friend, who'd saved both our lives countless times and always been there for us - ever since we were in footy pyjamas. And *why* did you do it? Just because Buffy was mad at him!"

"I went back!" Normal Willow protested.

"You went back, because *Buffy* went back! You needed her approval to go and help your best friend?! How pathetic is that?" Dark Willow seemed to be towering in rage, while the Slayer looked aside at hearing the exchange between the two Willows. "Like I said before, screw this whole thing. Because you're everything about myself that I despise, Rosenberg. And it'll be a cold day in Hell, before I ever join forces with *you*!"

With that, Dark Willow flung her arms out and sent a lightning bolt of power screaming towards her doppelganger. Both Tara and Jonathan threw their arms up in a futile attempt to block the bolt; but the mystic shield could be heard to shatter, as the two of them were blasted aside. Jonathan hit the stairs going up to the mezzanine level, and Tara was thrown over the counter where the cash register was.

Buffy quickly lunged at Dark Willow. The black-clad witch just shifted her position slightly, and easily backhanded Buffy away. The force was such that the Slayer staggered on her feet for a second, as her opponent followed up with an energy bolt that sent her over to the stairs - where Jonathan was just struggling to his feet. The two of them fell back down, hopelessly entangled as the duo tried to get back up.

Anya seemed torn for a second, as she waged an internal battle with herself. She alone had faced off against Willow, when the redhead had gone all black-eyed like this before; and it was not a pleasant memory, besides that whole thing with losing her powers.

The former Anyanka remembered that even as a vengeance demon, it had been a painful experience taking on a witch of this level. And now as a human, she was more than a little afraid of what might happen to her, if the brunette got in the middle of what was unfolding in front of her.

Anya glanced over at Giles, who was waiting for the right opportunity to break Toth's spell. Of course, they needed to get the Willows in the right position to do that. So Anya screwed up her courage, and leaped at the magical version of Ms. Rosenberg.

Dark Willow had turned back to face her nerdy counterpart; Anya's attack took her off-guard, and the two of them fell over. "Hurry up, Giles, get her in place!" Anya called out.

Rupert started to head over to where the computer hacker version of Willow was, when suddenly Anya flew past his head towards the front of the store. Giles turned quickly, and came face to face with the black-haired Willow. { Oh, dear... }

"Well, Daddy, it appears that now it's just you and me - and me," the über-witch said, with a small laugh. "Whatever am I going to do with you?" She then started to advance towards the former Watcher.

"Stop!"

Giles and Dark Willow turned at once to the source of the command, and saw that Nerdy Willow had decide to intervene decisively in the events as they unfolded. For she had picked up something, that now riveted the attention of the combatants.

A knife.

It didn't look like anything beyond a glorified letter-opener; it certainly didn't look to be magical, or overly-decorated. No one would have given it a second glance, except for one fact.

Normal Willow had it firmly in her hands, and was holding it against her own throat.

Dark Willow frowned. "What the hell is this?" She started to step towards her counterpart.

"Hold it! Stay right where you are, you-you meanie! You so much as twitch, and I-I-I'll make something happen to you - by doing it to myself!"

"Willow-" Giles half-whispered, not liking where this was going.

"Not now, Giles!" Willow cried out, never taking her eyes off her dark mirror version. "Look, this whole thing is crazy! The fact is that if one of us gets killed, the other one also dies. So let's cut to the chase; no matter what you do, I'll still find a way to kill myself!"

"Willow!" That was Buffy, who had finally managed to get clear of Jonathan.

Hacker Willow just ignored her. "No matter where you send me, I'll find *some* way to do it. Slash my wrists, hang myself - wh-whatever. Even if I was outside the time stream, I'd find a way to do it. And when I did, you would die. And that's the last thing you want, right?"

"Who do you think you're trying to bluff, you moron? You won't do it. Not only do you not have the guts, it's a mortal sin to commit suicide! You're so afraid of your parents, you won't do anything to offend their religion. Remember how afraid you were, of hanging a cross in your bedroom during sophomore year? That would have driven your Jewish father crazy, if he'd ever found out! So just put down-"

"No. You're right, I don't want to die, any more than you do - but, but better a mortal sin like that, than let *you* loose on the world!"

The black-haired Willow frowned in disbelief. "You'd actually prefer to go to Hell that way? You'd never see Xander again, in the afterlife-"

The redhead only pressed the knife closer into her throat. "At least, w-we'd go there together. And as for Xander - you, you really think he ever wants to see us again? Plus, he gave his life to save the world. I think following his example would be something I could live with...or not live with, i-if you know what I mean-"

Dark Willow scowled at her counterpart. "All right, what do you want?"

Normal Willow slowly stepped into the right spot, never taking her eyes off the seething witch. "Just stand still and don't move. Giles, do it now!"

Giles stepped forward and spoke, "Let the spell be ended."

Willow looked at Giles, after she blinked. "Okay, what's next?"

Buffy spoke up, "Willow, look around. There's only one of you left in here now."

Ms. Rosenberg hurriedly looked around the room, and confirmed the fact the room contained only one version of herself. "Oh." She let the knife drop from her throat. "Oh! I, I need to sit down..." and with that, the redhead promptly fainted.

**Outside the Magic Box, Sunnydale, California. Thirty minutes later**

Josef Lemke pulled the door of the Box shut behind him, as he exited the store. He sighed to himself in relief. {Well, that's one emergency that seems to have handled itself, thank God. }

Willow was no longer sporting the Goth look. She was now looking very much the subdued Wiccan student he had come to know, during his time in Sunnydale. Green eyes and red hair was what he'd seen this time, instead of way-creepy black hair and eyes.

Lemke had been surprised, when Cleburne himself had returned the call that he had placed to his former employers. About an hour earlier, his cell phone had been the instrument of the conversation between the two of them.

Cleburne and Xander were en route to Sunnydale, and would be there in a couple of hours. Until they got there, Lemke was to find and delay the bookstore clerk he had grown fond of during the past year or so.

Lemke had trouble believing it at first, when Cleburne had told him the potential existed for Willow Rosenberg to literally end the world. Still, the husband of Joyce's CPA knew his former boss well enough to know that there were some things Mother Hen did not joke about, doomsday being one of them.

He had also been told that if Willow headed for or got to Kingman's Bluff, not to waste time waiting for reinforcements. He was to terminate Ms. Rosenberg with extreme prejudice, using whatever means available to do so.

Lemke had gone to his store, and retrieved the sniper rifle he had hidden there. He hated the thought of having to kill Willow, but he knew that if it came down to choosing between her and the world, his wife and his unborn child, well - it wasn't really a choice for him at all.

Lemke had spent the next little bit, after setting up a sniper's nest within a grassy knoll close to Kingman's Bluff, looking for his employee. Checking at the Magic Box, which he knew her friend Rupert Giles had just bought, he had encountered the whole group of her friends. They had been clustered around her as she sat at a table, looking freaked and drinking a cup of tea.

He'd played the part of the worried friend/employer. Well, actually, he really didn't need to pretend at that role too much, as Lemke really considered himself a friend of Willow, albeit one that knew a lot more that anyone realized.

Willow and her friends had stuck to the story of the college girl being given some drug-laced brownies by some dormmates. Willow had cracked a joke about her feeling beside herself, from all the attention being showered on her. Her friends had just shared the in-joke amongst themselves.

Lemke had made sympathetic noises about legal action being taken against the offenders, and that Willow should go home. He'd then told his Wiccan employee that he could make do without her, albeit with a lot of effort, at the store for a little while. She should just come back when she felt up to it.

Lemke briskly made the short walk from the Magic Box to his store. And as he unlocked his place of business, a black-haired young woman approached him.

"Mr. Lemke?"

"That's me, can I help you?" Lemke turned and looked at her.

"Mother Hen sent me," Gwen Raiden said, repeating what Esther Marcum had told her to say the bookstore owner. Lemke nodded, and motioned the woman into the store.

Cleburne hadn't been the only Siberian who had sprung into action, after Xander's reaction to Willow's condition. Esther Marcum had definitely not been idle, after the warning that the apocalypse might be at hand.

The first call she had made was to the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. After a tense ten minutes of explanations, the arrangements had been made for the ultimate fallback position to be in place, if things went *completely* south in Sunnydale.

Esther had then called the asset she had on-site, Gwen Raiden. Mrs. Marcum had figured that as good as Lemke was, extra help of the paranormal kind would definitely come in handy in an end-of-the-world situation. As in addition to being a very good thief, Gwen had that whole 'lightning bolts from her hands' thing going for her.

Esther had also been worried with Dark Willow making an appearance that others might stir up trouble, so she had put out an all-hands-to-battlestations alert for STW. After all, they knew that the First's Bringers had been spotted in Sunnydale a few months earlier; and for all anyone knew, there could be a chartered plane headed there right now, to take advantage of the situation.

So, Gwen's photographing of the Watcher journals had been interrupted by the ringing of her cell phone. Ms. Raiden had been given instructions on who to look for, where to find him and what to say. She had quickly locked the office suite, leaving the few books left to photograph off to the side, and headed to the bookstore.

Which led her to the current meeting she was having with Lemke, who towered over her. "How is Mother Hen? He wasn't too rough when he sent you here, was he?" Lemke asked.

"He?" Gwen shook her head. "Uh, I spoke to a woman. She just said to say that Mother Hen sent me. And I never really pictured her as a mother hen type," She followed him over to the counter.

{Must have been Esther Marcum she talked to. Cleburne must be moving so quick to get here, that Esther is minding the HQ. } "Well, okay. Thing is, the one we call Mother Hen - let me tell you, he seems even less of the mother hen type until you get to know him, really well that is," Lemke responded.

Gwen looked around nervously. "Not to rush you, but the woman I talked to seemed to think the world might be destroyed any second, if we don't put the kibosh on some big nasty. So what's the situation?"

Lemke smiled. "We can all relax, looks like the home team has taken care of the red alert for us. Just came from checking on them, and everything looks normal." He paused for a second "Well, as normal as you can get in *this* town."

"You sure? No chance someone is pulling the wool over your eyes?" Gwen wanted to make certain, since she didn't have a ticket to get off planet Earth in a hurry.

"Eyes are wool-free," The bookstore owner reached under the counter, and pulled out a telephone. "Suppose I should let the others know as well, before we have a convention arrive in town."

"Convention?" Gwen asked with raised eyebrows.

"Yeah, only they would be nothing like the shriners," Lemke joked, as he dialed a number that he had committed to memory. It rang a few times, before the owner of the phone answered.

"What?"

Lemke wryly noted that the other party's phone manner hadn't really improved that much, ever since he had retired. "Lemke here, Colonel. Code Green. Situation is under control."

Cleburne paused for a second. "Any fatalities?" The senior Siberian knew enough about Xander Harris to know that he would not take the death of Willow Rosenberg well at all, despite everything.

"No deaths, as far as I can tell."

"What happened? How did the situation get taken care of?"

"Not sure. Looks like the local talent pulled it off, somehow. I was just at their home base, and the subject in question was completely normal, other than trying to find a reasonable explanation to give me as to what had happened earlier." Lemke didn't want to get too specific, as he didn't know who might be listening in on their conversation.

"Good, we're on our way there. Is the young lady the home office sent there with you?"

Lemke looked over at Gwen, and suddenly realized he didn't even know her name. "Yes, she's standing here with me right now."

"Ask her if the materials she's getting for us will be ready in a couple of hours."

Lemke turned to Gwen. "Whatever you're doing here in town, can you get it done within two hours or so?"

Raiden thought for a second. "Yeah, I'm close to being finished now. I can have it ready by then. Actually, it might take more time putting the originals back afterwards."

Lemke nodded, and turned back to the receiver in his hand. "She says she can have the package ready by then."

"Good, we'll be landing at the airport in two hours max. Tell the woman with you, she can check at whatever local bank there she uses to confirm payment. See you in two." With that, Lemke heard Cleburne hang up.

"He said to say they're going to be at the airport in two hours, to pick up whatever it is you've got for them. You can check on your payment at the local branch of whatever bank you use. By the way, I'm Josef."

"Gwen. Tell me, you any good with a digital camera?" If he was able to help, she could wrap it all up that much quicker and have more time to put the diaries back in place at the Englishman's apartment.

"As good as the next guy," was his response.

"Good. Come on then, you can help me."

**Apartment B, 523 Oak Park Street, Sunnydale. Ninety minutes later**

Gwen silently made her way back to the window that she had entered through. With the help of the man from the bookstore, they had been able to finish photographing the Watcher diaries in just under 45 minutes.

The thief was glad of that, as the task of returning the books to the apartment had taken longer than she'd expected. A phone crew had been in the area, and she didn't want to be spotted by them. But they had finally gone away, and the job had gotten done.

Gwen had slipped into the apartment and returned the volumes, exactly where they had been before. On the way out, she noted some photographs - next to the occupant's record collection.

{Hmmm, never pictured him as fan of that kind of music. The things I learn when doing the burglary thing. Now to my favorite part of any job, getting paid! } she thought to herself, as Gwen Raiden slipped out of the window.

**Sunnydale Airport, Sunnydale, California. Thirty minutes later**

The plane that had carried the Siberians to the Hellmouth was sitting on the tarmac, well away from the terminal and in a location guaranteed to avoid prying eyes. Still, Xander understood Cleburne's orders for him to not leave the plane under any circumstances.

One thing about Sunnydale that Mr. Harris had learned over the years, was that no matter how well you prepared against it, you should always assume the worst would happen. So he went along with the orders, without complaint.

Of course, he wasn't happy about it one bit. {I'm home, yet not. This feels no different to being in Wiesbaden, or Prague...}

As Xander pondered his unhappiness, Lemke and Gwen came on board. Cleburne greeted his former comrade-in-arms at once, "Hey, you big Polack, you!" he said with a big grin on his face.

"And you're still the same dumb redneck you always were, I'm glad to see!" Lemke replied, as the two of them hugged in the manner that men who had often faced death together in combat did.

Lemke turned to Charles Rose. "Gunny! You still keeping an eye on this guy?" he said as the two of them hugged.

"Trying to - but you know how officers are, ol' buddy. I'm hoping someday, he might make a good lance corporal."

"Oh, ha-ha, very funny Gunny," Cleburne commented. "Just wait until you see my Christmas present for you this year... "

Lemke grinned. "Oh, you should talk. It's been forever since I heard from you, and when I do? It's something about the end of the world! I swear, my pension should come with hazardous duty pay!"

Cleburne chuckled. "Hey, you do get the alumni discount at the company store..." He turned to Gwen. "Do you have the package?"

The raven-haired thief nodded. "Here you go." She handed over an envelope to Cleburne, as Lemke said hello to Xander without using his real name; and the young man said hi back.

Joshua looked in the envelope. {Feels kinda light for all the volumes that Watcher guy was supposed to have written. } The man then looked up at Raiden. "Computer discs?"

"Yeah, figured it would be easier to take a digital picture of every page. Easier to carry that way, anyhow."

Cleburne nodded at that, it made sense. "Good, everything in order on the financial side?"

"Haven't checked yet. I'll do it once we're done here." Gwen shrugged. "I assume the government won't try to stiff me, if they want to keep me on retainer."

He nodded again. Then Cleburne, Gunny and Lemke went to the back of the cabin, for privacy in order to go over events in Sunnydale in more detail. Graham Miller got off the plane to stretch his legs. And after a few minutes, Rachael excused herself and wandered to the galley, saying something about trying to find something to eat, although Xander thought she looked a little green...

Plane food; it always gets you, every time. It would probably be a bad idea for her to eat something right then. That left Xander and Gwen Raiden alone, sitting in the cabin.

After a few minutes of strained silence, Xander spoke up. "So, come here often?"

Gwen looked at the young man who had asked her that question. "Oh yeah, I come to the Hellmouth a *lot* for rest and relaxation. It's really the happening place, let me tell you."

Xander laughed at her acerbic sense of humor, which felt similar to his own. "You should try the night life."

Gwen shook her head. "No thank you. I like my blood on the inside of me, not being sucked out of my neck!"

Xander laughed again. "You know quite a bit about Sunnyhell, sounds like."

"Well, I *am* a professional. I like to know the lay of the land, before I ever set foot on the ground. So, who are you anyway? Got a fancy codename like the others?" {And Mother Hen? You would think the spies would have something cooler, than calling themselves a barnyard animal! }

"Sorry, that's top secret."

Gwen smirked at that response. "Well, like this isn't?" She then took off one of her gloves, and sent a bolt of lightning into the chair behind them.

Xander stared for a second. {Whoa, neat trick!} he thought, as his brain automatically started trying to remember if he had ever heard of a lightning bolt-throwing hottie before.

Suddenly, Harris remembered Willow saying something in that future history. {What was it, now? Oh right, Angel had fought this hugeass rock-like demon before he temporarily lost his soul, and about the same time a woman who could hurl lightning bolts had been hanging around the Hyperion Hotel. What was her name...oh, yeah, the same as that Thunder God guy in the 'Mortal Kombat' flick, wasn't it...? }

"Raiden?" Xander said tentatively, still lost in the memories.

"What? Hey, wait, how did you know my name-?"

Xander held up his hands, to stem the questions coming from the thief towards him. "I've heard of you before, vaguely that is. Took me a few minutes to place you. Gwen, right?"

She nodded at that. {Who *is* this guy? } Then Gwen looked more closely at him. {Whoa, hold the phone - wasn't he in that picture I saw not long ago, in the Brit's apartment? }

"Look Gwen, one day you're going to meet someone called Angel, and get into a fight with a really badass demon. Well, at least you were *supposed* to - things may have changed now..."

Gwen stared at her companion in open-mouthed astonishment, as Xander continued on. "Anyhow, if it pans out that way you can trust Deadboy, uh - that's the nickname I have for him. You can trust him with your life even, but that's all I know..."

Gwen shut her mouth and looked at him with suspicion, and Xander just shrugged in response. "I know it sounds insane, but I'm serious."

"I don't see any crystal balls around here, pal. Who are you, anyway?"

Xander hesitated for a second. "Call me Alexander Hall. And I don't need a crystal ball."

Raiden narrowed her eyes. "That's not your real name, is it?"

Harris shook his head. "No, but what can I say? It's the name I use nowadays, anyway." He then grinned and winked, using the good old-fashioned Xander charm that in ancient times had melted the hearts of two Slayers, a witch and a cheerleader. "Hey, trust me. Besides, us freaks gotta stick together, you know what I mean?"

Gwen just stared at her companion. "Look, tell the others I went to stretch my legs - got them all cramped sitting here, and I'll be outside if they need me..." With that, she turned around and quickly exited the plane.

Xander sighed. { Well, either I drive them away, or they seek me out due to my *gift*. Now I know how Buffy felt, about not having a normal life... }

**Fifteen minutes later**

Cleburne and the others returned to the cabin. The Siberian's eyes fell to the chair he had been sitting in for most of the flight, and the new burn marks on it. "Hey! What the hell happened to my chair!? I had it adjusted to just the way I like it!"

**Room 214, Stevenson Hall, UC Sunnydale. September 23, 2000**

That afternoon, Willow Rosenberg turned the page of the book she had been reading for the last few hours. And ever since the events of the day before, she had been resting in her dorm room.

Tara had insisted, and to be honest Willow hadn't put up too much of a fight. After all, she had gotten a glimpse of her dark inner self, and that had been enough to throw *anybody* for a loop.

The thing was that Willow hadn't missed the weird expressions afterwards, when everyone had looked at her after Josef Lemke had left the Magic Box. There had been sympathy for her ordeal, yes, but there had also been...fear.

Fear of her.

{How the *hell* did I ever end up like this? Back in high school, the meanest thing I could ever think of doing was putting a 'kick me' on someone else's back! Now there's a part of me that wouldn't hesitate to kill Buffy, Giles, Anya or Jonathan if they got in my way? }

It had been an impossible question for the college girl to answer, in her current state of mind. And the only thing that the redhead *was* sure about, as she'd tossed and turned in bed the previous night, was that she was damned glad Xander had never lived to see what Willow Rosenberg had become.

Although thinking about it, back when he had first shown up after everyone had thought he was dead and his memory had been returned to him, the former Soldier Guy had said something to Wesley about Willow having tried to kill him. At the time, she had refused to believe it; but now, having seen the depths she could go when under the influence of magic, the redhead wasn't so sure. Maybe *this* was what he had been talking about...

Memories of her childhood crush had briefly dominated the witchy woman's thoughts. {Goddess, it's been nearly 18 months since we buried him. And January, 1998 - that was the last time the old Scooby gang was all united and happy, wasn't it? I was with Oz, Xander was with Cordy, Buffy was with Angel - heck, even Giles and Ms. Calendar were almost back together. Then it all fell apart - that thing with Spike and Drusilla seems like so long ago now... }

Willow had decided the next morning that she definitely needed some time to get her bearings, and come to grips with what had been revealed to everyone. She had missed all her classes for the day, and Lemke had told her to take off as much time as she needed; and the Jewish girl was grateful for it, to be honest.

However she had been stuck in her dorm room all day, with nothing to do. Tara had told her not to study, even going so far as to hide her textbooks. And with the memories of Dark Willow's abuse of magic, Ms. Rosenberg had definitely *not* been in the mood to look at the spellbooks the two Wiccans had.

She had wandered up and down the dorm hallway and lounge, to see if there was any good reading material lying around. But all she'd found was a few month-old _People_ magazines, that she had already read.

Willow had then recalled the book loaned to her by her employer, that was still in the nightstand drawer. So she had pulled it out, gotten under the covers of her bed and started to read _Blackhawk Down_.

**Later that night**

Tara Maclay opened the door to her dorm room, balancing her book bag in one hand while she held her key in the other. A darkened room greeted her. She placed her keys in her pocket, and reached to turn on the lights. But then she stopped, when she heard sobbing.

"Willow? Honey?" the blonde Wiccan asked softly.

"Tara," was the whispered reply. "Oh Goddess, I understand, I understand now..."

Tara quickly closed the door behind her, placed her bag on the floor and made her way over to the bed where Willow was laying. She sat down on the bed, then reached over and turned on the lamp sitting on the nightstand.

Tara suppressed a gasp, when she saw Willow. It was clear she had been through a crying jag-fest. There were several Kleenexes on the nightstand, as well as the empty box.

"What happened, Willow? Did, did someone get hurt?" Tara asked worriedly.

Willow shook her head while dabbing at her eyes with a Kleenex. "Yes. No. Not tonight, but someone did get hurt in the past..."

Tara was now very confused. She hugged her girlfriend, "Sweetie, i-is this about what happened yesterday?" 

Willow shook her head again. "No, it's about something much earlier than that."

"Well, why don't you tell me what happened tonight to get you so upset?"

Willow collected herself for a second, then started talking. "You know the book Josef loaned me to read?" Tara nodded as Willow continued, "Well, I was reading it this afternoon, and I got to the part about Gary Gordon and Randall Shughart."

Tara thought for a second, trying to place the names, then it hit her. "That picture that Josef has on his wall, they're the guys in the one that he's put in that special place of honor. You found out why it's special?"

"Yeah, and the two of them were like awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor for what they did..."

Tara, even with her meager knowledge of the culture of the U.S. military, knew that the Medal of Honor was given out only for the most extreme acts of courage, the type of heroism which one very rarely survived. "They must have been very brave."

Willow nodded. "You remember Somalia back in '93, when those Army guys got into a fight that a lot of them died in?"

Tara nodded. "I was only 13 years old or thereabouts, but I-I-I remember my Dad talking about it. He, well everyone in the family for that matter, wasn't happy with how things turned out. I, I saw some of the pictures of the mobs afterwards-"

"Then you may have seen Gordon and Shughart, although they weren't alive anymore by then."

"What do you mean?"

"A helicopter was shot down. And they were in another helicopter, above the crash scene. They were snipers shooting at the angry mob, trying to get to the survivors of the crash. The two of them kept radioing headquarters, wanting to rappel down to where the crash site was. The first two times, the general in charge wouldn't let them do it. The third time, they got permission though..."

Willow took a deep breath. "They got to the crash site, just the two of them against almost a whole city. They, they had been told that rescue was a long way away. They saved the pilot, and they kept fighting for as long as they had ammunition. Then they were both killed, it was their bodies that the mobs dragged through the streets."

Tara hugged her girlfriend. "Sweetie, I know it was a tragedy, but I don't see how-"

Willow interrupted Tara. "Tara, they both knew they were gonna die. That's why the general wouldn't let them do it, the first two times. Everyone knew that once they got off their helicopter to where the mob could get to them, they were signing their own death warrants..."

Willow sobbed a little bit more, as Tara comforted her. She dabbed at her eyes with the tissue paper, before resuming talking again. "And I realized something, when I read their story. They were faced with the same choice I had outside the Bronze over two years ago, only they knew what was going to happen. They could see the mob shooting at them. They had no illusions about making it back. No one woulda thought any less of them, if they'd stayed up in the air..."

The redhead finished up, "But they refused to abandon the crew of the other helicopter. They refused to turn their backs and walk away. They went headlong into danger, despite everyone trying to talk them out of it."

"They were heroes, sweetie..." Tara said, as she brushed Willow's hair back. Still, after remembering the screams and diatribes of Dark Willow the previous day, the blonde had already figured out where the redhead was going with this.

Willow leaned back, and looked at her lover. "I know, but when I was faced with the exact same choice - only with no mob firing at me, and as far as I knew no vampires about to pop out at me - I turned my back, and walked away from Xander. It didn't matter if I thought he wasn't in any danger. And it didn't matter if I thought he was a jealous asshole, for lying to Buffy. He was still my oldest friend, and one of us. All I had to do was turn around, and take a few steps. That's all. A few seconds, that's all it would have taken..."

Willow took another deep breath. "But I turned away, I just left him there. I..." her voice faltered for a second. "...I abandoned him, there's no other way to describe it. It didn't matter about whether or not I knew a soulless demon was waiting in the bushes. Even if we had been in the middle of the desert at high noon, I still should have helped him. I'm, I'm a horrible person..." With that, she broke down completely and started crying as she hugged Tara fiercely.

Willow whispered, "What do I do, Tara? How can I possibly make up for my sins? You heard what the nerd version of me said yesterday, the odds are Xander won't ever even tolerate my presence one day, when my time comes..."

Before Tara could answer, there was a knock on the door. Willow pulled back and straightened up. "Who is it?" Tara called out.

"A friend of Willow's. I kinda need her help, is she in?" called out a voice that Willow had not expected to hear.

The redhead nodded at Tara, and the other witch went up and opened the door. And there in the hallway was the ensouled vampire called Angel. "Hi, Willow - it's good to see you again. And don't worry, it's me Angel - not Angelus. Can I come in?"

Willow nodded, looking into his eyes and sensing his sincerity. She then managed to say, "I invite you in, Angel." And with the finish of that sentence, the male vamp stepped into the dorm room.

Willow quickly introduced Tara and Angel to each other; the blonde witch had heard about the vampire, but this was her first time ever meeting him. And the former Irishman was very surprised, when Willow hugged him tightly. "Thank you," she said.

"What for?" Angel asked in confusion.

"That night outside the Bronze. Saving Xander after I abandoned him," Willow said tearfully.

{Okay, what the heck have I wandered into the middle of? } Angel thought to himself, looking at Tara in bewilderment.

Ms. Maclay noticed his stare, and then caught Willow's eye. "I, I'll leave you two alone to catch up," she said simply, before slipping out the door.

"Ican'tbelieveIdiditandhewouldhavebeenkilledexceptthatyouwerethere-" Willow started to babble. She fiercely hugged the vampire again.

"Willow, please stop," Angel said softly.

Willow sniffled a little bit, and pulled back from Angel. "Right, right, you need some help. What's wrong?"

"It can wait," Angel said shortly. Something had gotten Willow all riled up about Xander, and Angel wanted to get to the bottom of it. "Now what's gotten you so upset?" he asked, as the Irish-born undead moved her back to the bed. He pulled a chair up next to the bed, and sat down himself.

Willow then explained to him the events of the past few days. Angel was amazed, as he heard the story. Two Willows, and one an evil super-witch - who could and would have killed anyone who got in her way?

{Xander should have warned us about that. Then again, maybe he did... } Angel recalled that night with the body bag when his friend had said something cryptic about Warren Mears killing someone and that it had sent Willow off the deep end. He hadn't gone into detail about what that meant, though. {Well, I guess now I know. }

Angel got the vague feeling that this particular happening, at this particular time, would have caught Xander by surprise also. And not for the first time, the Champion found himself wishing he had a two-way channel of communication with the former Scooby.

Willow then told him about the realization she had come to, based on what the two Willows had said to each other and the book she had been reading. This started her off crying again. So Angel leaned over and hugged the redhead awkwardly, unsure what to say.

"How do you do it?" Willow asked and she then continued, when the woman saw the puzzled look on Angel's face. "Live with the past, and the choices you made. All the mistakes, all the evil - is there any way for me to atone?"

Inwardly, Angel was pleased at the question; he knew that when the time came, at least one of his former friends would do everything in her power to make things right with Xander. He had hopes for the others also, but they weren't hugging him right then and crying over their lost friend. { One mountain at a time, } the ensouled vampire thought to himself.

"Willow, I don't know. There's - there's no simple answer to that question. There's no checklist to follow, to atone for the sins of the past. You just do it, one day at a time; and if you do it just to get out of trouble, well - that's as bad as not seeking redemption at all. You just live the best that you can, and do the best that you can."

Willow sniffled, dabbed at her eyes with the Kleenex and nodded. "Thanks, Angel. I guess that's a start, but there has to be more; I just gotta figure it out for myself. Now, you came for help; so what is it you need?"

Angel steeled himself, this next part wasn't going to be easy. "Willow. Do you remember Darla?"

The redhead frowned, then her memory finally kicked in. "Oh! Yeah, I was there when you staked her during sophomore year, I saw that vamp blasting away at you and Buffy in the Bronze-"

"Well, uh, the staking wasn't as permanent as we thought, at the time."

"What!? What do you mean? How can a staking not be permanent?"

Angel held up his hands to calm Willow down. "The bottom line is, she's back. But don't worry; Darla's not a vampire, at least - not at the moment. As for how she came back - well, some months ago an evil law firm called Wolfram & Hart-"

Willow looked startled. "I've heard of them! They were representing Xander's parents, when they were trying to sue the school board over his death last year. They're evil?"

Angel frowned, noting this away for further investigation. "Yeah. Well, anyway. They brought her back as a human."

"You sure?"

"One hundred percent, she paid me a visit."

"Oh no! She, she's gone all Big Bad on us?"

Angel shook his head. "I don't think so. From what I could tell, she's up to something, but I don't think she's out to destroy the world or anything like that."

Willow swallowed. "Is Darla coming back here? For revenge? Do we need to get Buffy to be ready to slay her?" In the back of her mind, she also processed the information that there was a method to bring a person back from the dead - Xander now never being far from her thoughts.

Angel shook his head. "No, there's no need to get Buffy in on this, this is a situation where she doesn't need to know yet - 'cause no vampires are involved. Well, not for the moment anyway."

Willow nodded hesitantly. "Okay, so, no Slaying party just yet. But uh, what do you need me to do?"

"Remember back when I - that is, Angelus - decided he didn't like the world all that much, and wanted to end it?"

"Vividly," Willow replied, the nightmare fresh in her mind after the last few days.

"You did a spell to give me my soul back." Willow nodded silently as Angel continued, "Well, *if* and when the time comes - I need you to be ready to cast that spell again."

Willow's eyes grew wide. "What!? You're not going to lose your soul again, are you?"

"No, I'm not planning on losing my soul anytime soon. It's Darla. Look, I can't tell you how exactly I know all this, but I believe - no, I'm almost *certain* - that Darla will be turned into a vampire again, before the year's over."

"How do you know that?"

"Like I said, I can't tell you that, there are some things I *have* to keep secret. Trust me on this."

Willow stared at the vampire for a second, trying to gauge Angel's words. "Okay, I'll trust you for now, but if I'm wrong in doing so - I'll turn you into a toad!" Willow joked.

Angel chuckled, "Okay, just promise me you'll find a nice lily pad for me afterwards." {And I *hope* she's just joking, as once she finds out the truth about Xander - she might be mad enough to actually do it! }

"When do you need the spell by?" Willow asked. "'Cause after the last two days, I'm not exactly feeling like a world-class Sabrina at the moment..."

"I'm not sure yet, but I don't need it right away. I just need for you to be ready here with the soul curse. I'll get in touch with you, when the time comes."

She nodded. "Okay, I'll call you when I have all the ingredients ready. I need to find another Orb, for one thing..."

Angel got up. "Good, well, I'll get going then. And I would appreciate it, if you kept this little meeting a secret from everybody else."

"But Angel, Tara saw you, the others will know you were here. They'll ask questions, don't ya think?"

Angel hadn't thought of that. {That's true enough, damn it. } "Hmmm, good point. We'll have to tell them something. Maybe researching a spell for me?"

Willow shook her head. "After what happened yesterday, the others will be looking real hard at anything I do that's magic-related. They'll want details..."

She thought for a second, when inspiration struck. "I know, your investigation agency! I'll tell them you need some computer programs for it. A bookkeeping program, or maybe a website for advertising - that would work! And I can tell them you came instead of calling, because...you were on a case, checking out a lead in the area?"

Angel smiled at Willow. "You're obviously still as brilliant as I remember..." Willow blushed, very pleased with the praise. "Yeah, that should do. Let me know when you're ready, or if you need anything. I'll be in touch." He quickly hugged Willow goodbye, and walked out the door.

**UC Sunnydale, Sunnydale, California. Two minutes later**

Angel walked outside to his car, the Plymouth parked not far away from the building. {Well, I guess that went as well as it could have... }

Willow was going to do the spell, and it looked like she would be receptive when Xander could rejoin the land of the living Scoobies. Now he would just have to prepare Buffy and Cordelia as well, although from a conversation she and Wesley had had and the former Watcher had told him about - that probably wouldn't be too hard, with the former cheerleader.

{ And don't forget, I also have to convince Xander to reconcile with them. *That* might take a little bit more doing. 'Course, I also have to find him first, if he doesn't show up when and where we planned... } He reached out, and grabbed the handle to the car door.

"Angel."

The former Angelus froze; that was the one voice he had wanted to avoid on this trip. He turned around and was faced with Buffy Summers, the vampire Slayer. "Buffy."

"You're here. And you weren't even going to come see me, were you?" She sounded hurt.

"Buffy...after everything that happened last time in Los Angeles, I thought I shouldn't just pop up on your doorstep again. We both agreed it was all for the best, how we ended it."

Buffy ignored Angel's words, and walked over to his car. She leaned up against the vehicle and said, "I've been thinking lately, you know. About - everything. You, me, the last four years. It's just - things haven't really been good for me ever since my junior year, before you...changed. God, I would give almost *anything* to have things back the way they were, just before my 17th birthday..."

"Buffy, you can't change the past." Angel ignored the sneering inner voice that reminded him how *he* had, with the help of the Oracles.

"I know, I just wish..."

"Buffy!" Angel interrupted her. "Never use the w-word. There are demons around that would use it to twist your meaning beyond recognition!"

A look of comprehension swept Buffy's face. "Damn, you're right. You'd think I'd know better than to do that, what with Anya hanging around and telling us stories about her past vengeance exploits..." The Chosen One sighed to herself. "Gak. Even when I'm trying to explain things, I wind up making them worse!"

She looked so dejected that Angel, against his better judgement, reached over and hugged her. She returned the hug, "Oh God, Angel, why can't I have a normal life? I can't even keep a boyfriend! Did you know, the last one I had wound up having Dracula forcing him to eat bugs?"

"Dracula was here?" Angel asked in consternation. Angelus and Dracula had once run together in the bad old days, before old Vlad had hit the road to avoid repaying Spike eleven pounds - mostly on general principles.

"Yeah, came here looking for me, called me Buffy the murderer, did a real number on us, before he went all dusty when I introduced him to Mr. Pointy."

Angel was surprised at that. He could recall how many Slayers had gone gunning for Dracula in the past, and failed! And here was Buffy, having accomplished the incredible feat...and her only memory of it was her boyfriend being under the vampire's thrall?

"Amazing."

"No biggie, but Jeff then went and left me. Mom got all weird and made me move back home, Giles has gone all squirrelly on me, Dawn's a headache like always, Willow went all black-eyed badass and everything is just nuts around here! I just want something or someone to hold onto, to be an anchor in my life. To be my rock," the Slayer said miserably, not realizing that in the history that had been changed...that role had been filled by Xander, who was gone now from the group in this world that they all knew.

Buffy held herself tight to Angel's chest. And then, she felt his arms tighten around her. { Yes... }

And before he knew it, Angel's tongue *was* halfway down her throat, as he held the only woman he'd ever loved in his arms. Buffy started moaning and panting, barely restraining the urge to jump up and wrap her legs around his waist...

Angel's mind suddenly started yammering, {Soul, soul, soul! Remember how you lost it, the last time?! This is exactly how it all started before, and don't forget what Xander wrote in that letter...} He then broke off the kiss, almost shoving her away.

The blonde Slayer stepped back and looked at him, "Angel, what-?"

"Buffy, this is wrong. We can't - I can't - back in Los Angeles, we ended it like that to avoid things just like this! We can't risk it. I'm sorry, I thought I was strong enough to resist temptation, but obviously I'm not. So I'm leaving. I'm sorry. Goodbye..."

With that, he got into his car and instantly drove off, in a haze of burning rubber, leaving behind a Buffy with tears streaming down her cheeks, helplessly staring at the retreating automobile.

**Unknown place, unknown time**

She waved at some of the children, as they left. She really enjoyed working here at the youth center. Because considering her troubled childhood, she felt she needed to give something back to the community, after all the things she'd pulled at that age.

She glanced at her watch. {Xander should be getting off from work at the construction site, right about now. I'll try to catch him before he leaves, and have him bring home some Chinese food. }

She leaned over, and picked up the phone on the counter in front of her. She then dialed the number, and patiently waited for an answer.

"Jackie, it's Faith here. Has he left yet?" The brunette waited for a few seconds, for the other party to respond. "Missed him by just five minutes? Damn. I hope he's getting some food for dinner. Thai? Well, I was hoping for Chinese, but I suppose I can stand some Thai for tonight. Thanks, Jackie, g'bye."

Faith LeHane-Harris hung up the phone, and grabbed her keys. She really wanted to beat Xander home - as the woman had some big news for him, from her visit to the doctor earlier today. All their patience and trying had at last paid off; baby Harris was finally on the way!

She walked out the front door of the youth center, locking it gleefully behind her.

TBC...


	14. Chapter 14

**Part Fourteen**

**Port of Aden, Yemen. October 12, 2000**

The warship made its way into the harbor at a slow pace. The harbor was full of naval traffic, but the other vessels there gave the warship a wide berth.

Except one; a small zodiac boat, with two men on it, made its way towards the warship. After a few seconds, the blast of a horn could be heard from the warship. But the boat continued on, and actually began to pick up speed.

A second blast followed a few seconds later, that was also ignored. The warship started to turn away from the boat.

The smaller vessel just sped towards its target, only to be greeted by a stream of bullets coming from the bow of the warship. A second stream of gunfire came from about amidships.

The boat started to try and dodge the bullets, only to fail as it went up in a huge explosion. The warship then calmly continued on its way, as the zodiac boat and its crew burned.

**Georgetown, Washington D.C. October 12, 2000. Two hours later**

Esther Marcum concluded the phone call she had just received. She cradled the receiver in her hand, as she dialed another number she had committed to memory a long time ago. The black woman then waited a few seconds for an answer.

"Mr. Wizard? We just got confirmation from the Navy. There was a failed terrorist attack on the USS Cole in Aden harbor. It looks like they took the heads-up we sent them seriously enough, to make sure the captain and crew were on their toes-"

She listened for a few seconds. "Yes, I'll make sure that Cleburne passes the news onto Mr. Hall," Esther said, utilising the alias Xander was still using. "Now, we just have to hope the main event goes as well."

**The private office of Lilah Morgan, Wolfram & Hart building, Los Angeles. October 12, 2000**

Lilah continued reading the report that had just been emailed to her. Being a rising young attorney in the law firm that represented so many different versions of evil, was in fact demanding work. She had to be diligent and put in the long hours, to attract the favorable attention of the Senior Partners.

Of course, success on their special projects would be helpful also. Hence her desire to resolve the Xander Harris situation in a favorable way - to her, that is.

So far, that had been a fruitless endeavor. The governmental agency that was protecting the target had casually deflected every attempt she'd made to find him. They had also started poking their noses into the affairs of the firm's clients, the ones that were involved in...nefarious activities. She hoped the more frequent appearances by them would be the factor that convinced the Senior Partners to approve her plan.

As if in response to her hopes, the phone on the desk rang. She picked it up, "Lilah Morgan here."

The beautiful brunette listened for a few seconds. "Yes, Holland. Why, thank you. Yes, don't worry, I won't disappoint you..." She listened for a few more seconds. "I understand what happens if I disappoint you, Holland, thank you but I'm sure there's no need to go into details right now..."

She hung up the phone, and buzzed for her assistant. He quickly came into the room and Lilah looked at him, "My plan's been approved. Start getting the monks here."

**U.S. Air Force Base, Northern Utah. October 13, 2000**

Xander fidgeted in his chair. The room was full of soldiers in BDUs, only needing body armor and weapons to be completely ready for combat. They were just as impatient as the former Zeppo was, and the room was filled with the hum and racket of their conversations.

Xander recognized quite a few of the soldiers present. Gunny was nearby of course, as was Graham. Rachael was standing in the back of the room; and for the record she had adapted fairly well, after the conversation Xander had had with her in St. Louis. But God help him, every once in a while Xander actually found himself thinking of her in romantic terms...

"Any idea why we're here?" Oz asked as he leaned over to Xander, trying to be heard over the noise.

Xander shook his head. "No idea, buddy, just got a message to hop a plane out here as soon as possible. I gotta tell you though, I don't like being here."

"Why's that?"

Xander nodded over at a group of civilians in dark clothes. "I recognize a few of them. Mormons. Some of them were the missionaries who kept showing up on my doorstep. They're probably just waiting for the opportunity to try to convert me..."

Oz stared at the former Scooby, and then looked at the group Xander had pointed out. His friend had told him why the Mormon prank from Cleburne was one of the reasons Xander often enjoyed a joke at Mother Hen's expense.

But Oz didn't get the chance to respond, as the door to the room opened up and the agent in question, also dressed in BDUs, walked in. The room quietened down, as he walked to the podium at the front.

"Evening, ladies. Welcome to the party, sorry about the last-minute invites but we're moving on really fresh information." He nodded to Gunny, who turned out the lights. On the screen behind Cleburne, an aerial shot of a town was shown.

"This is satellite imagery of Rapid Creek, Idaho, that was taken two hours ago. It's a small town, population about 300, just north of the Utah/Idaho border. The populace of the town is almost exclusively Mormon. Which is kind of the reason we're here..."

Cleburne gazed at his audience. "The Danites got an emergency call earlier today, from one of the town elders. He said a group of demons had rolled into town on motorcycles, blown the bridge connecting the place with the outside world and announced they were settling in for the winter, as the owners of the new demon Shangri-La!"

The picture changed to an aerial view of a building on fire "The townsfolk fought back, it got ugly and the demons won. That's the remains of the city hall you're looking at right now."

The USMC colonel went on, "The elder said the demons were rounding up the survivors, and he didn't know how long he could avoid them. He said he would try to call later, but they needed help quick. He hasn't called back yet."

Cleburne pointed at the Mormons that Xander and Oz had been talking about a few seconds before. "The Danites don't have enough manpower in place to handle the situation, so they gave us a ring-a-ding. And since this is the kind of thing we've decided to deal with, we're going in."

Xander suddenly got a bad feeling about all this. And within his head came forth memories of that future world, on the night of Buffy's resurrection...

"Based on information we've gathered in the last year or so, the demons are a motorcycle gang who calls themselves the Hellions. They find a town that can't protect itself, move in and take over."

Harris froze, almost panicking. Oz instantly noticed his old comrade's expression, but nonetheless maintained a poker face.

Cleburne continued, "Based on what the town elder reported and the satellite surveillance, we believe the Hellion strength to be approximately 75 to 100 hostiles. Odds are a number of smaller gangs got together into a large gang, for this little outing of theirs. Armaments are limited; like most demons, they apparently can't or won't handle firearms. I also suspect that the discipline structure they use is nothing more than the strongest one rules. That'll give us an advantage; I'm sure we all remember Hanson's rule on VMI cadets and Hell's Angels..."

Xander was confused by that remark, but most of the soldiers seemed to get it. Harris then made a mental note to ask Cleburne about it later, along with the Danites reference. He turned his attention back to Joshua, as the briefing continued.

"We'll split up into three separate attack groups, about 28 grunts in each team. There'll be a reserve force that'll remain airborne, along with the medics, nearby to help out and evacuate the civilians once we find them. A mechanized infantry battalion from the Utah National Guard, one that's in the know, is handling perimeter security. Air support is available from units of the Utah Air National Guard. The Danites will have two or three members attached to each group, to assist and coordinate. Some of them are familiar with the local terrain..."

Cleburne nodded, and the view changed from the picture to a map of the town. "Insertion will be by helicopter assault on these three locations." There were three red marks, that formed a triangle around the town. "Each team will work its way inwards to the center of town, and the town hall. We think the civilians are being held in the town's fire station, but we could be mistaken about that."

The picture on the screen changed again to a grassy field. "Extraction site for the civilians, assuming they're in the fire station, will be here in the community park behind it. I sincerely doubt that the enemy will have AA missiles, but let's be on our toes just to be safe. The medics will also set up here, once it's secured, using the shelter house as the aid station."

Mother Hen looked around sternly. "One final thing. Armory boys have been playing around with the weapons, and we're hoping they've got the problem with big game hunting ammo licked. Instead of 9mms, everyone gets a sidearm that's a .45. We're hoping that's strong enough to put these demons down, if need be. But either way, primary weapon is to be either Colt M4A1 assault carbines, or Heckler&Koch submachine guns. Those of you with the HKs, remember the opposition may have longer-range weapons than you - so always have someone with an M4A1 nearby. Questions?" He looked around the room.

Red spoke up, "They know we're coming?"

The senior STW agent shook his head. "Best guess is negative. There's no indication that they've started fortifying their position to receive a commando raid. The only real work they've done is set up what looks to be a listening post to watch the blown bridge. Even if they have some inkling, it looks like they're set up for an overland attack through the road into town. A helo assault should take them by surprise."

"Rules of engagement?"

"If it's demon, kill it. Human, save it. Try to minimize collateral damage as much as possible. Also when firing at the demons, aim for the head. I've never really encountered anything that reacts well to a bullet to the head!" Light laughter from the soldiers in the room was the response to that statement.

"Prisoners?"

"If they offer to surrender, accept it. Otherwise, don't go out of your way to try and take any..."

Cleburne held up his hand to emphasize the point he was making. "However, if it looks like civilians might be endangered otherwise, offer the demons the chance to surrender first. Remember, the main objective of this operation is to save the people in trouble, killing the bad guys is secondary. Any other questions?" he looked out over the room.

Xander put his hand up. "Any information on the demon enemy leader?"

Cleburne looked surprised for a moment. "No. You know anything you'd care to share with us, Hall?"

Xander looked grim. "If it's the guy I think it is, his name's Razor. And as I recall, him and his boys like to rape women..."

Most of the men assembled looked instantly angry and more motivated than ever after hearing that, while Rachael and Oz looked at Xander speculatively. {Where does he know these demons from? } they both thought in unison.

Cleburne nodded slowly. {I need to have a talk with the kid about this, after the meeting's over. } "Right. Well, any other questions?"

No response came from the assembled group.

"Okay, a list of which fire teams goes in what group is posted in back. There are also maps and photographs for you to review, on the way to the target. An armory's been set up next door; in ten minutes, report there to draw weapons. And go easy on the grenades, guys! We saddle up in the helos in thirty, and should be hitting the LZ in a little under two hours. And remember, most important of all, don't get killed!"

**Outside the briefing room, ten minutes later**

"Kid!"

Xander turned to the source of the shout, and saw Cleburne half-walking and half-jogging towards him. "Yeah, Mother Hen?" the former slave replied, as he was handed a carbine by the enlisted man overseeing the allocation of weapons.

By this time, Cleburne had learned to simply ignore Xander's use of the forbidden nickname. "Question. Care to tell me how you came to think that this Razor guy is present where we're headed?"

Xander shook his head. "Not particularly," he said simply, as he checked the weapon like the professional he was.

Cleburne folded his arms, and his version of a Resolve Face showed up. "Look kid, hot LZ. You understand what I'm sayin'?"

Xander sighed; he knew if it came down to something that might affect an operation, Cleburne just would not let it go. "Okay, here's the deal. In October 2001, that particular head hog demon and his pals showed up in Sunnydale, to have themselves a big ol' party and settle down for a while. The Slayer and friends convinced them to move on."

Cleburne looked sceptical. "What else?"

Another sigh. "During that visit, I wound up having an up close and personal with Razor, as did other friends of mine..." Xander's voice visibly hesitated a moment, as he remembered Anya and all those others then. "Before he ended up with an axe in his back, the asshole was quite open about the plans he had for the women he bumped into. It was enough to turn my stomach."

Cleburne raised an eyebrow. "You know what this means, right?"

Xander frowned. "Oh, come on..."

"Don't even start, kid. If you're going into a firefight with the rest of the unit depending on you to keep it together, we can't afford for you to collapse from the headaches. You and Gunny, and the Wolfie while we're at it, stay in the rear guard for this one. Clear?"

"Fine," Xander said, fuming. He understood the logic, but that didn't mean he had to like it. "But what are the odds I'll actually come across that one particular bastard, during the op?"

"Knowing the trouble you attract like a magnet? Too high for my liking! Anyway, getting back to what happened in Sunnydale then - I thought these demons only went after towns that couldn't defend themselves? So why the hell would they go to the Hellmouth, while the Slayer was there guarding it?"

Xander grimaced. "Well, Buffy wasn't exactly...there at the time."

"They must have known she was coming back, though?"

Harris shook his head. "Trust me; it was a big surprise to everyone in the know, when she...came back. Even *Buffy* was surprised as all get out. See, she was someplace no one ever wants to come back from..."

Cleburne knew ambiguous half-truths and double-entendre when he heard them, and not for the first time wished *someone* could persuade Xander to talk freely for once. "You know, kid, one day you and I are going to have to sit down and have ourselves a long talk. Things from your past - future - whatever - constantly seem to keep popping up around you. It would be nice to get a program, so I can tell all the players what happens when."

Xander laughed. "Tell you what - you tell me everything about what *really* went on with the grey aliens at Roswell, and I'll tell you some more about my past that's yet to come."

Cleburne frowned. "Kid, how many times do I have to say it? That was just a weather balloon back then, that's all! It even said so in the newspapers!"

Xander chuckled, "Yeah, right. And Irving just works as a 12-year-old professor at the University of Chicago, you're just a colonel in the Marines, and I'm just some guy who grew up in a sleepy southern California town - where according to the papers in LA, nothing ever happens..."

Harris, still smirking, headed off towards the helicopters. He stopped and turned back to Cleburne. "By the way, what are the Danites?"

"Back when the Mormon church first came to Utah? They were the special agents, so to speak, that defended the Church against whatever threats were out there. Over time, they evolved into the branch of the Mormon church that dealt with the supernatural. They do a good job; that's why Utah has almost no vampire or demon activity."

"Some of them look familiar, you know. They wouldn't happen to be the ones who kept trying to convert me, would they?" Xander asked.

Cleburne just grinned at him and walked away, chuckling as he did so.

**U.S. Army Blackhawk helicopter, the Utah/Idaho border. Ninety minutes later**

Xander looked out the helicopter window. He really couldn't see anything in the dark night sky, except the shapes of mountains. Every once in a while he could also see the shape of the other helicopters in the attack force, as they powered along in military formation.

Around the helicopter, several soldiers sat studying the maps of the town they had been provided. Sitting across from Xander was Rachael, who was once again checking her M4A1 carbine. It turned out she had served in the Israeli army before joining up with the Mossad, so she was basically familiar with military operations and that particular weapon.

It showed with the way the brunette woman had been carrying herself, during the last hour or so. Next to her was Oz. Gunny was busy on last-minute instructions on the use of his firearm, as the werewolf was still a little unsure of himself with guns.

"This switches the weapon from semi-automatic to full automatic. So now that you know what it does, don't touch it!" Gunny said forcefully.

Oz cocked an eyebrow at Gunny. "Then why tell me what it is?"

"So you don't go flipping it on, out of ignorance. If you start blasting away on full auto mode, you'll burn through your ammo in no time flat. Until you're more comfortable with firearms, it's strictly semi-automatic for you!" Gunny shouted over the noise from the helicopter's motor.

Xander then idly wondered why the Scoobies hadn't really thought of ever finding a way to use firearms against the undead. Granted, Giles was too steeped in tradition and Buffy didn't like guns, but still - *he* should have come up with something, over the years. Watching the Siberians in action had convinced him of the usefulness of guns and ammo, in those situations that he seemed to find himself in on a nightly basis.

Best of all, the undead seemed to constantly underestimate the effect a pistol would have on them. Xander always got a warm feeling deep inside, when he saw the look on a vampire's face that had just received a bullet in the chest. The slug might not kill the damn thing, but it definitely ended up in pain...

Rachael had noticed Gunny's efforts to instill fire control discipline in Oz. She smiled and leaned over to him, "Don't worry Gunny, I'll keep an eye on Mr. Osbourne to make sure he doesn't waste a single round. Same for Mr. Hall over there," she nodded at Xander.

"Oh, him I'm not worried about - the lieutenant seems to have *some* fire discipline!" Gunny commented acidly.

"Hey, I don't want either one of them in a position where they have to worry about making every shot count!" Cleburne leaned over from where he was sitting. "That's what the rest of us are for."

He then turned to face Xander and Oz. "Listen up you two, we're hitting the ground in a few minutes. This is your first time doing the air assault thing, so there are few things to know."

Xander felt some of his soldier memories sharpen in his brain. { Let's see if things have changed much... }

Cleburne continued on, "The helicopter isn't actually going to land, it's going to hover about five feet off the ground-"

"We're not landing?" Oz asked at once.

"No, the less time the helos spend on the ground, the better for all concerned. You'll jump out, and when you do-" Cleburne said. 

"Don't stop or fall to the ground. Keep moving to the edge of the LZ. Whatever you do, don't stop until you get out of range. There are other helicopters and soldiers coming in behind you. You clog up the LZ, it gets messy. Kind of like a cork in a bottle," Xander recited calmly, as Cleburne stared at him.

"Kid?"

"Hey, PFC Donald Grant. Remember him? He did this kind of thing all the time, during Vietnam."

"You remember that?"

"Yeah, looks like my soldier memories aren't as gone as you all thought they were," Xander said with a smirk. "Can't I have an off day once in a while, without you guys wanting to hypnotize me?"

Cleburne leaned back. "Kid, you never cease to surprise me. Anything else I need to know?"

Xander never stopped smirking. "Yeah, but I'm not going to tell you..."

**Rapid Creek, Idaho. Thirty-five minutes later**

The landing had gone smoothly enough. Oz and Xander had followed the rule of not stopping, till they were well away from the landing zone. Gunny and Rachael had then followed the two of them. Cleburne was overseeing the other troops of the attack force, as they deployed.

After a few seconds, the sound of the choppers faded into the distance. The helicopters would remain in orbit far enough away from the town to escape detection by the demons, and await the signal that the civilians were ready to be evacuated. Fortunately, they were far enough from the town that the sound of landing hadn't reached the ears of the demon gang.

The night was silent, except for the normal nocturnal sounds and an occasional murmur from the Siberians. Xander tensed up though and thought to himself, {Here we go...}

Cleburne looked around, and then made a signal with his hands. This started the Siberians advancing towards the town. Xander and his group followed the advancing troops, after a minute or so. In particular, they all listened to the short comments between the soldiers in their earpieces.

The advance into the town was intense. Every once in a while, the sound of roaring motorcycle engines could be heard off in the distance. Other than that though, there was no hint of the demon presence.

Till they got to the first house, that is. The front door was kicked in, and all the windows were smashed, with the glass lying everywhere within the house. The next two houses were the same way.

At the third house, Xander's earpiece squawked to life. "Team Charlie, we've got hostile contact. Three demons dead, one got away-"

Xander could see Cleburne at the front of the third house. "All teams, head to the fire station. Take out all the hostiles on your way!" He started trotting down the road, towards the center of town.

Xander made to follow him, but then Gunny signaled him to wait a second. Harris then made a face that didn't move Gunny one bit, as the career soldier said, "You know the rules, Hall, we hang back. No brain freezes for you in the middle of a firefight!"

Off in the distance, they suddenly heard the rattle of gunfire.

"Mongoose, this is Saucer," Xander's earpiece squawked again. Xander remembered that Saucer was the designation for the aircraft that was circling the town, to provide command and control for the commandos.

Saucer continued in a clipped tone, "Confirming the hostiles do have heat signatures, so we're able to track them."

"Copy that. Can you track the civilians?" Cleburne asked over the radio.

"There's a large number of heat signatures at the fire station. Stationary at the present time."

"Which force is closest to the target?" Xander listened to the conversation as he trotted down the street with his teammates, keeping an eye on the surroundings.

"Team Baker is closest. Charlie has the main group of hostiles between it and the civilians."

"This is Mongoose. Team Baker, secure the fire station with all dispatch. Charlie, hold position. Able will attack the hostiles and try to force them into Team Charlie's position."

Xander heard confirmation of Cleburne's orders from the various team leaders. He then heard Cleburne telling Gunny to stay to the rear of Team Able. {Man, these guys really need to get cooler code names for themselves! Hmmm, maybe Nighthawk could make a comeback} the young man thought to himself with a bit of nostalgia, as he followed Gunny and the others. Then Xander frowned.

Cordelia Chase had liked that name *way* too much at Buffy's welcome-home party, that in this world...had never. Even. Happened.

A short distance ahead, Cleburne crouched next to a wall. Down the street from where he was, the local police station stood. And Joshua could see several of the red heads of the demons through the window. Every once in a while a shot rang out from the stationhouse, which caused the commandos to duck.

The Siberian known as Red crouched down next to Cleburne. "Uh, for demons who don't like using firearms? They seem to have adapted quite well," he remarked.

"Well, they're demons - not morons," Cleburne replied, scanning the surrounding area. "By the way, sorry about having to pull you away from your leave in LA."

"Hey, I knew things were going too well, I was kinda halfway expecting something to come up!" Red fired off two rounds from his weapon at the police station.

"Speaking of things going well, you seem to be spending a lot of time in Los Angeles, for a blue blood from Boston. Do I need to ask, or be worried?"

"Hey, just enjoying the sights of one of America's greatest cities!" Red said. "Ah, shit - seven of the demons just headed out the back door."

Cleburne nodded. "I saw it, they might try to get us in a pincer movement. And you've been seeing that waitress again, haven't you?"

Red shoved a new magazine in the Colt carbine he was using. "We need to outflank 'em, right? And so what if I'm seeing Ametila? I'm an adult, and you generally don't meddle in the personal lives of the agents. Well, okay, you did introduce Lemke to his wife..." Red thought for a second. "Come to think of it? There are several active and former operatives who met their spouses through you. I never realized before now, how much of a matchmaker you are at times - sir..."

Cleburne simply shrugged, after firing several rounds in response to the latest fusillade of gunfire from the police station. "Negative. And it's just a hobby. But I'm surprised that you *finally* seem to have a steady girlfriend..."

The sound of motorcycles starting up could now suddenly be heard. "Oh come on, don't tell me they're going to try and slip behind us on those things?" Cleburne put a new magazine into the carbine he was carrying.

Joshua then ignored Red's annoyed face as he reminisced, "Anyway, I can remember when you first came on board into the outfit, it seemed like you had a girl in every port, street and corner. To have a special girlfriend monopolizing your time is...kinda unnerving."

His companion replied, "If I remember correctly, the road behind the police station loops around and comes right through here. They're probably trying to catch Charlie by surprise, not realizing they'll have to go by us. And just for the record, Ametila is special! I even think it could be something long-term..."

The sound of the motorcycles grew stronger from down the street. Cleburne, with Red following, walked to the middle of the street, being careful to make sure that the demons from the police station couldn't get a clean shot at them. "Eyes out, weapons hot. So, how you going to explain her to your parents? I mean, for pity's sake, the one time I met your mother? She thought I was the hired help! No offence, but we both know she doesn't relate well to people from other classes, let alone other species..."

"Ready when you are. And I guess I'll just have to figure out something..."

At the end of the street, several motorcycles finally appeared. They sped up when they saw the two agents standing there. "We're all going to have figure something out, with the way things are going. I'll take the left, you take the right," Cleburne told Red.

"Roger that, Colonel."

The two of them then started firing off gunshots, aiming methodically at their targets.

After their volley of shots, the demon in the lead of the group approaching the two Siberians stopped his motorcycle and grinned, laying a shotgun across the handlebars. "Hey, softskins. What do you think you're doing? You're pretty lousy shots!" He laughed at the two humans in front of him.

Cleburne observed the demon with no expression, one way or the other. "Look behind you, horn head." Red idly wondered what it would take to get the senior Siberian to show anger in a combat situation.

"Listen to him, boys, all brave aren't they?" the demon laughed. There was no response to his snide comment. "Boys?"

He glanced behind him, and the laughter died at once. As there behind the creature in a ragged line on the ground, were the bodies of his fellow demons.

They lay intertwined with the motorbikes, many of which still had their wheels spinning. The demon then turned back to the humans, with a look of unease. Because both of Cleburne's and Red's weapons were now zeroed in purely on himself.

"So, horn head, a few questions," Cleburne said. The demon nodded dumbly. "The townsfolk, where are they?"

"Fire station," was the raspy answer. "Most of them. A few of them are still on the loose, we're hunting them down..." The demon instantly noted that his mentioning hunting humans had not gone over well, with the two men about to determine his fate

"That police station you just came from. Any civilians in there?" The demon biker just shook his head. "Okay then, what do we do with you?"

The demon shrugged his shoulders. "Any chance you'll just let bygones be bygones, and I simply go?"

Cleburne shook his head. "Don't think so."

The demon nodded, then jerked up the shotgun - hoping to get off a quick shot.

He failed miserably, his head bursting apart like a festive piñata as Cleburne and Red lowered their smoking guns.

A few minutes later, Xander listened to Cleburne from the command post he had just set up in the police station, telling the Siberians that there were still some townspeople on the loose. So Joshua cautioned the commandos to be sure of their targets, before shooting.

There were various confirmations from the ranks of the soldiers. Xander and his group continued making their way hesitantly towards the center of town.

"Oracle, this is Saucer," Oracle was the codename attached to Xander's little group.

"Go ahead, Saucer," Gunny replied at once.

"There are five heat signatures near your position. Sixty yards from you, due west. They're in a structure of some kind."

Gunny looked in the direction indicated, and saw a convenience store. "Understood. Can you tell if they're hostiles or civilians?"

"Negative. Can't confirm enemy presence, at this time."

"Roger that, we'll check it out." Gunny turned to the others. "Okay, lieutenant - you, Osbourne and Weitz hang tight. Keep your eyes peeled, I'll do a quick recon..." Gunny then slipped away after the others confirmed his orders, and made his way towards the building.

After about a minute and a half, gunshots rang out from within the building. The front doors slid up, and two demons then came running out. Xander could hear Gunny's voice calling out in a high-pitched manner, "Thank you, come again!" in a dead-on imitation of Apu from 'The Simpsons'.

So Xander and his two companions opened fire with their own weapons, Oz staying with the semi-automatic setting for his gun while Rachael and Xander blasted away on full automatic. The demons quickly flopped to the ground, and were of no further concern to anyone in this world.

Gunny exited the store, supporting a very scared teenage girl in a clerk's uniform. It was clear that she had been treated roughly. Xander felt himself getting angry as he started across the street to help out, losing his focus on the surroundings. {This is getting to be just like Sunnydale, back then... }

"Xander!" Oz called out to his friend.

"Alex!" Rachael called out at the same time.

Harris twisted to see what they were yelling about, and vaguely saw a red blur as a demon slammed into him - and both of them crashed to the ground. The demon, which had darted out of its cover to try and escape during the confusion, had not seen Xander as the two of them had intersected in the street.

Xander rolled over, and then got a good look at the demon that had fallen with him. "You!" he shouted and then groaned, grabbing at his head - as the former Scooby felt the intense headache hit him, right between the eyes.

Razor, for that was who it was, just glared at Xander and raised a Bowie knife to stab him with. {Nothing's gone right, ever since we came to this shithole town. So I'm pissed, and I'm gonna take it on your ass, soldier boy! }

Two gunshots then rang out, as Rachael and Oz tried to kill the demon biker from their unfavorable position. Black blood splattered upon Xander and Razor, as one bullet missed and another just tore through the demon's shoulder.

The enemy leader cursed, and inadvertently dropped the weapon. He then kicked Xander away, and lunged for the knife at once. {Freaking human assholes, you're dead - whoever you are! }

In the throes of his intense headache, which normally would render him unconscious, Xander somehow was still able to bring up the HK submachine gun that the Siberian quartermaster had given him. {Gotta make this count- }

Mainly by pure instinct, he jammed the gun into Razor's side and pulled the trigger. The roar of the weapon on full auto mode was muted somewhat, by the effect of the demon's body being directly over the weapon.

But the effect of the submachine gun was not lessened in the slightest, by its location. Xander felt himself getting drenched with the demon's blood, as the bullets tore unmercifully through Razor's body and the vital fluid exploded outwards.

The leader of the Hellions was nothing but dead meat, even before Harris had fully emptied the magazine into the target. {Well, it's not as neat as when Tara did it - but thank God, he's just as dead} Xander thought to himself, breathing hard as the pain mercifully started to abate and he wiped the blood from his eyes.

**Local community park, Rapid Creek, Idaho. Forty-five minutes later**

The medics moved around the aid station they had set up in the shelter house, located in the community park. One of them was examining Xander - as Gunny, Oz and Rachael hovered nearby, nervously. Scattered throughout the shelter house were mostly newly-liberated residents of Rapid Creek, with some soldiers mixed in with them.

Off in the nearby clearing, a Blackhawk helicopter landed, guided in by a strobe light. Once it hit the ground, several more medics jumped out and headed over to the shelter house.

Red, puffing away on a cigar, walked up to where Xander was being treated. "How is he?" he asked the medic.

"Lieutenant Hall's gonna be fine, nasty bruise from the fall, but other than that he'll be 100% soon. I did make him take some painkillers, just to be safe." The medic then headed off to help with the civilians.

Mike Byrne joined his comrades. "Hall, I'm sure you can already imagine what Cleburne is going to say to you about all this - can't you?"

"Look, Red, gimme a break - I didn't see him coming. He just took me by surprise, is all."

"Exactly," Red took the cigar out of his mouth and pointed with it. "In combat, you need to always keep your head and be aware of everything around you-"

"I was aware!" Xander snapped back. "I just slipped up for a second."

"And that's all the time that was needed for you to get knocked to the ground, by that demon! If your hand had slipped holding the HK, well - no, let's not even talk about that," Rachael said, with a genuine look of concern on her face.

"Look, when my number's up, my number's up. I learned that the hard way in my life, sometime all the training in the world can't stop what's meant to be," Xander declared, while rubbing his forehead.

"Sure, pal, but you can minimize the odds of Fate as much as possible. The worst thing you can do in combat is get angry, or allow your emotions to take over. Every recruit into our little group has that drummed into his...or her..." Red added quickly when Rachael glared at him. "...head from day one, by Cleburne."

"Speaking of tall and grumpy, where is he? I've not seen him in a while," Oz asked.

"Oh, he's just taking care of some wrapping up right now," Red shrugged.

**The outskirts of the town. The same time**

The group of demons riding motorcycles was considerably smaller, than when they had ridden into town a day earlier. The couple of dozen remaining survivors constituted a pretty ragged group, in fact, with several wounded among them. They were making good time down the mountain road, though.

Once it was clear that things were falling apart in the town and Razor couldn't be found - command and control, what little there was of it in the demon motorcycle gang, had completely disintegrated. It had been every demon for itself, in a mad rush towards the demolished bridge.

The fact that it had been blown away in places had only slowed them down a little bit, as they had literally flown their bikes over the holes of the roadway. They had then started tearing down the road, in a mad attempt to escape. They hadn't thought to question why their attackers hadn't pursued them, something a more organized and well-trained group would have done.

Of course, they also didn't know that two miles down the road was a Utah National Guard mechanized infantry battalion, set up to handle just such a situation. However, the National Guardsmen would be denied the opportunity to explain to the demons the folly of attacking fellow Mormons.

Because high above the bikers, a conversation was taking place.

"This is Damocles One, I have target in sight. There's a straight stretch of road about 300 yards ahead that'll be suitable for a kill zone."

There were two confirmations, as the unaware demons continued on. Three hundred yards down, they did indeed come to a straight part of the mountain road and picked up speed. Unfortunately for them, their motorcycles couldn't outrun what was coming for them.

About halfway down the scenic route, the demons heard a roaring coming their way. They all looked back, screamed and either tried to swerve off the road or speed up to avoid what was coming.

Neither choice was viable as three A-10 warthogs flew in a low-level strafing run at them, firing their 30mm cannons as they approached their targets. The planes were spread out in such a way that their guns completely covered the area the demons were riding in or could get to, using their night-vision imaging systems to maintain a perfect formation in the night sky.

The exploding shells, all the size of old-fashioned milk bottles and designed to penetrate the armor of Russian tanks, tore up the road behind the demons - then quickly moved through them, and approximately 20 yards in front of them. Explosions blasted the road apart the whole distance, as a huge dirt cloud was thrown up.

After a few seconds, a riderless motorcycle emerged at the front edge of the dust cloud, and continued on for 15 yards before falling over.

As the smoke and dust cleared the scene of bodies, some barely moving and others not at all, and mangled motorcycles revealed itself to any observers.

One of which was standing at the top of a rise just on the outskirts of town, watching the scene with binoculars. Cleburne nodded in satisfaction with the job done by the air National Guard. He then keyed the body mike to his radio, "Saucer? This is Mongoose. Damocles has done a number on the enemy. Tell the Utah NG guys to go in and mop up."

The senior Siberian then turned, and headed back to the town park. He was going to have a talk with the kid, having heard enough over the radio to get annoyed at what had happened. { I swear, Harris has *got* to learn to keep his head in the game or else I'll wind up having to writing a letter to... }

Cleburne paused for a second. {Hold on a sec, just who *would* I write the letter to? His parents? I don't think so. The Brit, or those kids in Sunnydale? Now that would be a damn strange letter to write! Might have to do an in-person visit for that...}

Joshua then swore to himself to do everything possible to avoid ever having such a task befall him. Meanwhile, unnoticed by anyone, another figure on a distant hilltop looked down on the scene of carnage.

"Well, but these guys just keep popping up like ants at a picnic. They'll spoil my fun if something isn't done about them," said the First Evil, in the guise of Glory, before it vanished in a burst of light.

**U.S. Air Force Base, Northern Utah. October 14, 2000**

Xander walked out of the briefing room, having finished up the debriefing of the assault a few minutes ago. As expected, Cleburne had not been happy with him at all, and had made his displeasure with Xander's conduct evident.

However, there was a key difference from when he had gotten hurt in Sunnydale - that fray-adjacent lecture from Buffy, never buried all that deeply in his psyche. Here, there was no cautioning to hang back or be more careful; no, the thrust of the ass-chewing was that there was a lot more combat training coming his way.

And Xander couldn't help but notice the looks of sympathy he had gotten from his fellow Siberians, when they heard Cleburne was taking control of Xander's training schedule.

He remembered Buffy complaining about Giles and her training sessions, and that was without G-man being equal in ability to the Slayer. But in this situation, Harris knew beyond a doubt that Cleburne would not have any problems not holding back, when it came to kicking his ass.

Of course, from what he knew of Siberian lore, the fact that the senior agent was verbalizing his anger meant that deep down he was happy Xander was all right, despite his blustering about not wanting the Wizard or Esther getting mad at him.

But the USMC colonel whaling on him was a problem for the future. Right now, he had a more pressing concern.

"Mr. Hall, I'm pleased to see that you're largely unharmed," a clipped voice said that Xander instantly remembered, from his first days with STW.

The young man turned around, and saw one of the Mormon Danites standing there. He recognized him as one of the missionaries that used to visit him. "Been a while since I've seen you, you were literally the knock on the door I came halfway to dread." Xander said with a small grin.

The Danite looked chagrined. "I can assure you, we never meant you any harm. We just wanted to talk to you, and explain the tenets of our church. A man in a situation such as yours needs something higher in his life, than just trying to survive from day to day."

Xander looked the Danite up and down. "Look, pal, I know you mean well - but I spent nearly five years in a place where surviving day to day, was the only choice I had!" He said with a little bit of an edge to it, as he started to walk off.

The Danite ignored Xander's tone, and started walking alongside him. "I understand it was horrible, there's no lessening of the atrocities committed there implied. Still, you found something greater in life there than simple survival, such as getting yourself and your fellow prisoners out - correct?"

The Danite held his hands up to calm Xander down, as he saw a look of anger flash across the former Scooby's face. "Again I apologize if I have offended you, for truly I meant no offense. I'm Darien Chalmers. If you'd like to talk to us about the church, I would be delighted to answer any questions. If not, I understand, but still my fellow Danites and I would like to talk to you about hunting demons and your experiences with them. We're thinking of expanding our operations, and would appreciate any pointers you could give us."

Xander thought for a second. He noticed several Danites standing off to the side, looking expectant. "Does Cleburne know about this?" he finally asked.

Chalmers nodded. "Of course, and he said it was completely up to you."

Xander pondered the issue. {Well, it isn't actually a breach of the agreement we reached back at Caritas. Besides, maybe they'll have some more honey. I really liked that stuff! } So the man nodded his head. "Okay, guess there's no harm in talking..." The Danite looked very pleased that Xander had consented. "Let me just shower and get a cup of coffee first, though."

He started walking away, and as he did Harris heard Chalmers talking to the other Danites. "Now, I know you're all anxious, but I really think we should wait a while before everyone starts bringing out the pamphlets..."

Xander sighed as he walked off, hearing Cleburne's laughter in the background. {I should have known...does nothing I do escape your notice, Mother Hen? }

As he walked along, Rachael somehow appeared alongside him. "Hey Mr. Hall, if you're looking for a new religion? I got a suggestion, you should consider joining up with the Chosen people!" She then added with a chuckle, "Because, we get to drink alcohol and smoke..."

The former slave sighed again and just kept on walking, much like he had when Cordelia had given up popularity and the Cordettes for him so long ago - attempting to block out all the annoyances. He then recalled that in earlier times, Willow had tried to teach him about Judaism. {Hmmm, wonder what the old gang in Sunnydale is up to right now? }

**The Magic Box, Sunnydale, California. October 16, 2000**

"See, this is what happens when she's with those who can't control her," Mr. Maclay said while glaring at the Scoobies, who were tending to their wounds and standing around the magic shop.

"I'm so sorry," was all that Tara had been able to whimper to Willow, after the events of the last few minutes.

Tara's 20th birthday had arrived, and Willow had made arrangements for a surprise party for her girlfriend. Everything had been going according to plan, too, until Tara's family had shown up yesterday.

And they were nothing like Willow had expected. If anything, she had thought they would be peace-loving Wiccans and the like, after all that Tara had demonstrated being.

But they were definitely not like that at all. The men in particular had rubbed everyone the wrong way, right from the start - most especially Jonathan Levinson, for some reason. And Willow had definitely not liked the way that Tara had started acting once they had shown up, all meek and submissive.

Then the problem in the Magic Box had taken place. An invisible enemy had attacked Buffy and the others; a Lei-Ach demon of all things, even though in this world it was not acting under Glory's orders. Tara had then shown up, and seemed surprised by the fact that Willow and the others could see her...

It turned out that the femme had cast a spell on the Scooby gang, for them to be unable to detect demons - i.e., her. And as fate would have it, the evil creature had chosen that moment to attack the magic shop. It had been touch and go for a few minutes, but in the end the Scoobies had prevailed.

Then the Maclay family had shown up to take Tara home, against her will if need be, for the blonde college girl had been told that she would turn into a demon when her 20th birthday rolled around, which was today.

Tara had been afraid as to how the Scoobies, and Willow in particular, would react. So she had done a demon invisibility spell, with the results that her father was now using as justification to take her back to wherever the hell they'd come from.

"She's turning into a demon. She has to be taken home where she can be handled and cared for, and so she doesn't hurt others. She'll also be able to pay us back for the burden of taking care of her, all these years..."

That definitely got Willow's attention. "Hey, what do you mean? You can't just abduct her away like that! Not if she doesn't want to go!" Willow declared, her Resolve Face surfacing. For Willow wasn't about to lose Tara, in almost the same way she'd lost Xander.

"W-w-willow, it's for the best. I should just do what they say..." Tara said, indicating her family. "I'm turning into a demon-"

Anya raised her hand. "Excuse me..." The others in the room looked at her. "But just out of professional curiosity, what kind of demon?"

"What?" Tara's father had a puzzled look on his face.

"Well, what kind of demon is she going to turn into? After all, there are many different kinds of demons, some of them deadly and vicious - but others quite harmless, and even useful members of society. This whole attitude that all demons are pure evil is just species-ist racism, you know..."

Everyone in the room continued staring at Anya, as she continued talking. "Oh, I get it, you really don't know what kind of demon - do you? Well, let's go down the list then, tell me - first off, what sort of powers is she going to get?"

Tara's father just looked dumbfounded, as the former Anyanka started reeling off a list of powers. "Super-strength, flight, invulnerability, mind-reading? What?"

Mr. Maclay just shook his head to all of Anya's suggestions. {Who is this fool woman? Why, I oughta- }

"Anya-" Giles tried to interrupt her, unsuccessfully.

"Oh, I know, invisibility! I knew a demon years ago, who had the shtick of turning invisible and starting riots. Halfrek and I used to rave on about it all the time, over coffee-"

"No, nothing like that! No so-called powers!" Tara's dad snapped.

Anya placed her hands on her hips. "Well, this whole thing sounds pretty lame then! I mean, no powers? What kind of demon would that make? Sounds like the only thing they get is the duty of serving you..."

An epiphany came to Anya's brain. "Oh! That's it, isn't it?! Right before I became human, this colleague of mine named Lloyd? He was telling me about this racket some humans had going - of fooling other humans into thinking they were turning into demons, unless they did everything they were told. We both laughed our asses off about it, at the time - but that was *you*, wasn't it?"

Mr. Maclay was now angry, as was his son and Tara's cousin. It was the son, Donnie, who answered, "Hey, that's just plain ridiculous! Now let's get going, we're the only ones who can handle that bitch when she goes all demonlike-"

"Well, there's only one way to know for sure," Jonathan stepped forward and said simply, "_Animus reveale_!" as he pointed at Tara with his outstretched arm.

Tara's outline flared white for a second, as everyone looked confused. "W-what did you do?" the blonde asked her student.

"A modified spell to see a person's soul or aura, that I've been working on as a way to spot vampires and demons from a distance. It's been pretty successful so far, Teach. And if you were a demon, you woulda glowed black for a few seconds," Jonathan replied with a shrug.

"Which, which means that this whole thing is just a-a-a myth told by your family, t-to keep the women such as yourself obediently toeing the line," Giles said, glaring at the Maclay clan.

Donnie spoke up again, "Hey, this entire conversation is getting old! Tara, get in the car - or so help me God, I will strike you down!"

"I think you should be more worried about *us* hurting *you*," Jonathan said, somehow seeming to grow taller. And as Donnie and his cousin Beth watched, his eyes seemed to darken almost to a shade of black, as the nerd got ready to defend the only person in the world who gave a damn about him.

"Yeah right, like you could..." Donnie's voice trailed off, as he suddenly found himself facing the unified phalanx of the Scooby gang members. He had just seen them clean the clocks of something his family couldn't even see, and so Tara's brother was now definitely wondering what they were about to do to him...

"I think you should all leave," Tara said firmly, with no hesitation - or stammer.

"Of all the ungrateful-" Beth said venomously.

"Tara...you don't..." her father started to say.

"LEAVE NOW!" the Wiccan said forcefully, closing the door on that chapter of her life. And after another parting insult from her cousin, Tara's family was out the door.

Willow and Tara instantly hugged each other firmly. "Thank you," the older witch said, and then turned to the others. "Thank you all..."

Jonathan looked bashful. "Uh, you're welcome."

Buffy smiled, "Yeah, and Tara? You're one of us now. It's not like we were going to let anything happen to you..." The Slayer looked away for a second. "I learned my lesson about that sort of thing, a *long* time ago."

Next door to the Magic Box, Lemke stood in the window of his bookstore, watching the Maclay family leave with their tails between their legs, as he drank a cup of tea. {Just from watching them argue with each other, I can see why Xander didn't like them, } he thought to himself. {I'm glad he gave me a heads-up today to be on the lookout for them, and to make sure that Tara didn't leave with them. Oh well, another day on the Hellmouth... }

TBC...


	15. Chapter 15

**Part Fifteen**

**Great Russell Street, London, England. Late October, 2000**

Quentin Travers stalked into the library vaults of the Watcher Council's headquarters. He was not happy; having spent over an hour to just travel down to the sub-basement, due to all the security safeguards, had not done anything to brighten his normally surly mood.

"What's going on that I had to be dragged down here? All of you are supposed to be competent enough that you don't need supervision, the way kindergarten students do!" he semi-snarled at the several Watchers, who snapped to quasi-attention when he entered the room.

"Sir, I thought I saw something when I was down here doing inventory," stammered out one of the men. He was holding a flashlight. And that was when Travers noticed that the lights were flickering in some places.

"What the devil's wrong with the lights? And you probably just saw your own shadow, and got scared. People who are unsure of their abilities, rightly so, sometimes jump to conclusions they shouldn't," Travers said with a hostile tone.

The Watchers in the vault cringed. It was a well-known fact on the grapevine, that these days Quentin Travers was almost always unforgiving and in a bad mood. Where at one time being the assistant of the most powerful man within the Council had been a highly sought-after position, now almost all of the Watchers avoided that 'honor' like the plague.

"No sir, it's more than just the lights. I clearly saw a figure. Something or someone climbed up a rope into the ceiling."

Travers sighed in frustration. "This is ridiculous. The security systems would have detected an intruder!"

The young Watcher, named Riley Thompson, shook his head. "Other than some power surges, sir, it shows nothing."

"Well, there you go. And be assured that I will see to it the proper response is made to your wild goose chase!"

Normally Travers' response would have reduced the target to silent fear, but not this time. "Sir, something from the inventory is missing from where I saw the figure..."

Travers turned around at that announcement. "What, exactly?" he said with a catch to his throat.

Thompson handed an inventory sheet to Travers. "It's Section J, Lot 45, Item 37..."

Travers' eyes ran down the list to the indicated item. When he reached it, the color left his face. "Spread out, search everywhere," he barked out. "Seal the building. Nothing gets in or out till we find it!"

**Outside the Watchers Council headquarters. The same time**

Gwen Raiden made her way quickly to the car she had parked nearby, as a getaway vehicle. This job had gone even better than she had expected.

The U.S. government people had been most nervous about this item. They had quadrupled her normal fee, and offered quite a bit of logistical support - of the mystical and mundane variety. They had also told her not to let herself get caught under any circumstances, even going so far as to tell her that she was authorized to use lethal force if she found herself in trouble.

Gwen snorted at the thought. She was too good a thief to need to kill someone, to ever get the job done. Still, her employers had told her to not expect much mercy - make that none - if the targets *did* catch her.

But her skills had come through. So she got into the car and headed to the rendezvous point, where the young thief would be taken to a USAF base for a quick flight back across the pond. As she did, Gwen glanced down at the book and noticed the title. { I wonder what all the big fuss is about? }

The front of the book read '_De Vermis Mysteriis_' with the author "_Ludwig Prinn_" underneath. Gwen suddenly wished she had paid more attention to her Latin classes, in that Wisconsin school her parents had shipped off to...

**Office of Dr. Adams, Stedman Medical Building, Sunnydale. October 25, 2000**

Giles looked up from the magazine he had been reading, while Joyce was in the doctor's office. He had been driving her to her appointments ever since she had started going, and the Englishman had given whatever support he could to the woman...

But today, the look on Joyce Summers' face told him that the prophesised nightmare had finally come to pass. That his support would be needed now, more than ever before.

Giles quickly embraced his former lover as Joyce almost lost it and stammered, "Rupert, they found a...a shadow. Oh God, it's really happening, I...dear Lord, it's time to tell the girls..."

**Hyperion Hotel, Los Angeles, California. The same time**

Charles Gunn walked across the lobby of the old hotel. He was now almost a member of Angel Investigations, having gotten involved with the Fang Gang a few times lately.

It had all started with that thing involving the demon called Deevak. Him and his people had gotten into trouble; and Gunn's forces had been taken down a peg or two when the evil creature had murdered his old buddy Bobby. And what was worse, Alonna had been killed in a stupid accident, when Gunn had called Angel for help that night...

It had sent Charles into a huge depression. But eventually he had been dragged out of it, when the girl called Bethany Chaulk had come into his life - and Angel's Avengers had saved him from her mistakenly decapitating his handsome self, when her father had shown up.

Not to mention when just the previous day, he had participated in taking out the thrall demon Turfog - a creature that was making its human disciples kill each other, in an underground tank that used to be St. Bridget's convent. So Gunn figured he should finally go see where exactly the office of his so-called professional colleagues was. "Hello?" he called out.

"Hello?" came the high-pitched female voice response.

"Yeah, this Angel Investigations?"

Cordelia Chase came out of back office, with a smile on her face. "Yes it is, Angel Investigations, we help the helpless..." the young woman said, before she got a good look at who had called out for her. "Oh, Gunn, it's you! Well, welcome. So, how do you like our new digs?"

Gunn looked around the lobby. "Pretty big. Guess it shows promise."

"Yeah, well, before too long it'll be humming along as the hub of a thriving business..." Gunn shot Cordy a look. "Okay, fine, so we got it real cheap and don't have to pay rent!" she said cynically in response.

Gunn smiled at this woman, who a few weeks before had gotten it into her head to be his protector. "Well, guess you can't beat that." He looked around. "Angel in? After all, it's daylight outside, so I don't think Deadboy's out takin' a stroll..."

The former cheerleader looked shocked, reminded of the past - when someone she'd known and loved had called Angel that. "WHAT DID YOU CALL HIM?"

Gunn cursed mentally, having used Xander's old nickname without realizing it; back in Georgia when he had heard the Soldier Guy say the term, it had seemed funny and the Lost Boys had all adopted it since then, whenever referring to Angel.

Charles wished now he hadn't done so, as he remembered Xander telling him to keep the secret of his living status a secret - unless Angel personally told him it was all right to do otherwise. He thought for a second of trying to convince Cordy that she had misheard him, then he decided to just brazen it out. "Hey, sorry - guess that the term 'Deadboy' ain't exactly politically correct around here, huh?"

Cordelia shook her head. {It was just a coincidence, so get over it. Xander's been dead for nearly 18 months now...} "No, and please don't say it again. Well, Angel's out doing the dark brooding thing, there's tunnels leading to the sewers," she said in response to the puzzled look on Gunn's face.

"Is it just me, or does the guy seem even more broody than normal lately?" the black man then asked with a frown.

"Oh, hey, Angel's been brooding the whole time you've known him. I don't think you've ever seen him doing anything *but* brood," Cordy remarked with a brief shrug.

Gunn hesitated for a second. The job he had done for the undead Champion involving Xander Harris was still a secret. "It's just...he seems to be gettin' darker over time..." Which was true. Despite his foreknowledge of Darla' return, her activities were still taking a toll on the ensouled vampire.

Cordelia sighed. "I know, *something's* bothering him and he won't tell us what. I mean, both Wes and I have tried to find out what's wrong, but with like no success!" {And that's no lie! Plus, we've tried to find out about vampires having children and the need to transfer my visions to someone else, but with no success so far on that front either. And those are two questions I *really* want to know the answer to! }

"Well, hopefully things will look up. After all, he managed to help that girl with the mind voodoo thing," Gunn observed, with a shudder over how close Bethany had come to killing him.

"Sure, but it put him in an even worse mood than ever before!"

"His mood don't appear to be affecting his game none, and that's what counts," the leader of the Lost Boys remarked - not knowing that would change, before too long.

'**The Farm' CIA training facility, Virginia. The same day**

Xander looked around the cavernous room he had been taken to by Cleburne. There was a series of wooden walls at about waist height, that formed a path down the room. There was also a balcony halfway up the wall that followed the length of the room.

Cleburne walked behind Xander, squeezing a foam ball in his left hand. "Kid, we're going to have to work on your focus."

"Does that mean you're going to throw me around the room some more?" Xander asked with a grimace. Harris, after their first hand-to-hand training session, had been sore for days afterwards. He was also worried about the fact that Cleburne had told him that that was only the preliminaries, until the real close combat training began.

"Nope," Cleburne shook his head. "Today, we work on your focus involving ranged weapons." He handed over to Xander a pistol, with a small box on the bottom of the barrel. "That box is a laser, which we'll use to see where you hit the targets. If you hit in the right place, the target is disabled. However if you miss, it's not disabled."

"So what, a piece of paper doesn't get disabled?"

"Oh no, not pieces of paper," Cleburne pulled a remote from his pocket with his right hand, and pushed a button on it. Several feet down the room, a man-sized yellow object popped up. After a second, its arm came up and started shooting tennis balls out of it. "These targets shoot back!"

After five balls had shot out of the arm, Cleburne pushed the button again and the target sank back to the ground.

"Hey, those can sting!" Xander said, referring to the tennis balls.

"Well, real bullets do more than sting," Cleburne observed. He continued on, ignoring Xander's dirty look, "Now, the objective is to get to the end of the room having disabled every target, and not get knocked around too bad by McEnroe's revenge."

Xander shrugged. "Shouldn't be too hard to...HEY!" That last little bit had been in response to Cleburne beaning him on the head, with the foam ball he had been carrying.

"Did I also mention, that the whole time I'll be trying to distract you? Doing everything I can to make you goof up?"

Xander looked at Cleburne with a look of astonishment. "You hit me on the head with that ball. That ball hit me on the head, because of you. My head was hit by that ball, that was in your hand!"

Cleburne just looked at him. "Are there any other ways you can think of saying it?" Then he added with an evil look on his face, "Thing is, my doctor was worried about my stress level. He said playing with stress balls would relieve some of the stress. He was right, I felt the stress just slide away when I beaned you like that!"

Xander suddenly had a worried look on his face. "Balls? As in plural?"

The evil grin on Cleburne's face remained, as he leaned over one of the wooden walls and brought up two steel pails, both full of the foam stress balls. "I have a lot of stress to work through, kid."

**1630 Revello Drive, Sunnydale, California. Later that evening**

"Mom, I'm home!" Buffy called out, as she got back from college classes. One of the few advantages of living at home again were the home-cooked meals by her mother, and the Slayer was quite hungry right now.

"Buffy, you're home." That was Dawn, who was sitting at the bottom of the staircase.

"Yeah, that's what I just yelled out. I didn't phone from the Bronze saying I was home, did I?" Buffy then noticed the look on Dawn's face, as her little sister failed to rise to the verbal challenge. "Dawnie? What's wrong?"

Dawn glanced down, then her eyes headed for the doorway to the kitchen. "I don't know. About an hour ago, Mom came home with Giles. And she looked like she'd been crying! They've been in the kitchen, ever since."

Buffy suddenly felt worried. "Any idea why?" She suddenly paled, "Willow?"

Dawn shook her head. "No. When I got home and they kicked me out of the kitchen, I called Willow to make sure her and the others are all right. Everyone's fine."

"Dad?"

"Like we would even notice," Dawn said with a snarky tone.

"Dawn?"

The younger Summers girl almost jumped up from shock, when Joyce came through the door and said her name, with just a little tone of reproach. "Can you come with me? You too, Buffy, I need to talk to you both." Giles was not with her, staying in the kitchen at her request - as this was a family matter.

Joyce then led her daughters into the living room, and sat both of them down on the couch. She pulled up a chair opposite them. { Oh, this is *not* going to be easy, for them or me. }

"What's wrong, Mom?" Buffy asked in a scared, tiny voice.

The sound of that hurt Joyce so much, that she scooted her chair closer and leaned over - as she gripped Buffy's hand in her right hand, and Dawn's in her left. "Girls, I have to tell you something."

At that, Buffy drew a quick breath in. {What's going on? This is getting majorly creepy! }

Joyce continued, "These past few months, I've been feeling a little uneasy. I imagine my mood hasn't been the best to get along with..."

"It's all right, Mom, we understand," Dawn said as she squeezed her mother's hand.

Joyce shook her head, misty-eyed, and said, "No you don't, sweetheart, but thanks for saying it. I honestly don't know what I would do without daughters like you. Well, anyway, ever since July - I've been going to the doctor."

That brought a sharp intake of breath from both of the Summers girls.

"You see, for the longest time, they couldn't figure out why I felt so uneasy that there was something wrong. Well, today, they found out why..." She took a deep breath. "They found a shadow," Joyce almost whispered out.

Buffy looked confused. "Shadow? But, but everyone has a shadow. I don't understand!" Her brain wasn't fully comprehending what it was being told.

"Where?" Dawn whispered, a bit more focused.

"In my brain," Joyce answered sadly.

"Mommy?" Buffy whispered, even softer than Dawn.

"It's a tumor, Buffy," Joyce said as gently as possible. "The shadow's the first indication that I'm suffering from a growth up there."

"Are, are you going to die?" Buffy asked, after sniffling for a few seconds. Dawn also looked like she was about to break down in shock.

Joyce thought for a second, then she decided on being forthright, if not completely honest. {There's no need to tell them of Xander's role in all this, they've had enough hit them today already.} "I don't know. The doctors tell me that if it hadn't been caught *this* early, my chances of survival would be that much smaller." {Make that nonexistent, according to that letter, but let's not tell them that.} "As it stands now, they're hoping to treat it aggressively."

"Which means?" Dawn asked. In some ways, she was quicker in dealing with this situation than Buffy was. After all, there was no demon to slay here.

Joyce thought back to her meeting with Dr. Adams. "Well, many options were suggested to me. We're not just going to accept this and do nothing."

"But what are you going to do? That doctor must have had *some* suggestion as to what to do here," Dawn pressed her mother.

"Well, he did give me his recommendation."

"Which was?" That was from Buffy.

Joyce swallowed before she replied, and both Buffy and Dawn steeled themselves for what was to come. "He thinks they can remove the tumor through surgery."

Buffy's eyes grew wide. "Surgery!? But, but it's in the brain, they would have to do brain surgery!"

In spite of the situation, Joyce smiled at Buffy's remark. "Yes, sweetie. They have to go where the tumor is, there's no point going anywhere else," she gently joked.

Dawn leaned over and tightly hugged her mother; Buffy did so too, a second later. So Joyce quickly coughed. "Buffy? Slayer strength," she wheezed.

Buffy let go and leaned back in a hurry. "Oh my God! I'm sorry, I didn't hurt you - did I? Do we need to call a doctor or something?"

Joyce smiled and brushed some of Buffy's hair back from in front of her eyes. "No, dear, I'm fine. You just don't know your strength sometimes."

Dawn suddenly leaned back, with a funny expression on her face. As if she was...trying to remember something. "Mom? How long have you known about all this again?"

Joyce faced Dawn. {She would ask that, wouldn't she? I don't want to lie, but I can't tell her the truth either. The last thing I need is another fight between her and Buffy over Xander! } "I definitively found out about the tumor's presence today, even if I've been feeling...odd, for months now. So I decided to check in regularly with the doctor, till they figured out why I was feeling that way."

This was all technically true, even if of course what had gotten her feeling 'odd' was a letter from one supposedly dead young man. {Please, Lord, don't let either of them inquire too closely about it either- }

"When?"

"What, Buffy?" Joyce asked, pulling herself together.

"When's the surgery gonna take place?" Buffy asked, with the stricken look still on her face.

"The doctor wants to set it up sometime within the next month or so. The sooner the better."

"Who else knows?" Dawn then asked.

"Rupert's been driving me to my appointments, and I confided in him this afternoon. But I didn't want to alarm you and your sister, till the doctors knew something for certain."

"So what now?" Buffy asked in that scared, tiny voice from before.

"We get through this, as best we can," Joyce said with conviction.

**Lafayette Park, Washington D.C. November 1, 2000**

"Good afternoon, my daughter. Is this bench taken?"

Esther Marcum looked up at her questioner. He was an older gentleman, dressed conservatively and appropriately for the mid-afternoon weather. "Not at all, please have a seat."

The man smiled in acknowledgement, and sat down next to Esther. She looked around to make sure no one was within earshot. Satisfied that was the case, she turned to her bench companion. "So, Monsignor, I hope the cloak and dagger stuff wasn't too onerous for you?"

Monsignor Randall Bentallo smiled at that. "No, but I must admit that I was surprised to receive the invitation. After all, I am just a humble servant of the Holy See here in your nation's capitol. I'm astonished that someone from your organization would want to talk to me..."

The Catholic Church had been in existence long enough to realize that intelligence was power, and therefore the church kept track of events in the secular world. That was one of the unspoken, well most of the time, duties of the various diplomatic missions that the Vatican had throughout the world.

Esther glanced at her companion, with a grin on her face. "You certainly are a servant of the church. A humble one? Perhaps, but not an unimportant one. Anyone connected to the Special Office of the Vatican *can't* be unimportant."

A raised eyebrow was the response from the Catholic official. "I hear your organization has been quite active, exploring new fields. Areas outside what you used to deal with."

Esther nodded. "Things change, the only real constant in the world is that everything changes. I think that's an old Chinese proverb..." She laughed at that. "Well, most everything that sounds wise is at one time or another called an ancient Chinese saying."

The black woman regarded her visitor again. "I'm surprised you've heard such things about us, though; after all, we've not been moving in the circles your organization frequents."

"We still hear things from circles we don't normally...associate with. Even though many times we hunt the dark things of the world, we still interact with them."

"You've been doing so for quite a while too, if we understand correctly. You have a mighty big anniversary coming up next year..." She was alluding to the history of the organization that the good Monsignor represented, which had provided fodder for conspiracy theorists for centuries.

"Surely you didn't ask for this meeting just to arrange to send an anniversary gift? Really, the thought is all that counts," Bentallo joked.

"My eldest son keeps telling me that, around the time of birthdays, and the like. He kind of has a problem remembering his parents and siblings would like material proof of the regard he holds them in," Esther joked back. "However, getting back on topic, what could we give the Catholic Church? You already have so much. Still, I think we can reach an agreement that would satisfy you and yours."

The Monsignor nodded sagely. "We have heard of such agreements you now have with various parties, along with one very nasty rivalry with an organization of antiquity, even older than our own."

Esther took in what her companion said. Within STW it was known that some of the other organizations in the world dealing with the paranormal might be leery of the new kid on the block. After all, the Watchers Council had been one of the first amongst equals since the beginning.

And no one liked an upstart knocking over the apple cart.

"Well, in our defense, they came to us first - looking for trouble. Snatching an American citizen from American soil is something we...frown upon." Esther noticed four or five children run by, followed almost immediately by two camera-toting adults. So she and the holy man instinctively turned away.

"But one could argue that they would have been the best suited to handle the...situation that had developed. After all, they've dealt with such things since time immemorial," Bentallo seemed to be enjoying playing Devil's Advocate.

"And they've done such a great job of it, to be sure! They've become insular, obsessed with themselves..." She paused for a second. "Do you really believe that Travers and his band of lackeys did anything out of the goodness of their hearts, back in March? They were doing it for the power Mr. Harris could have granted them." Esther noticed that silence greeted her comment, for a few seconds.

Of course, the silence didn't last. "The charge is not unjustified. However, I sincerely doubt that your government is doing what it is doing entirely out of any charitable impulses, either."

Esther shrugged. "Of *course* we have selfish reasons for doing the things we're doing. It's only natural, and I won't insult you by pretending otherwise." She nodded at the White House across the street from them. "Very rarely does selfless motivation rule matters over there, either."

The woman paused for a second, before continuing. "Still, you know we've been cooperating with others. Helping them set up programs to deal with the bumpy things in the night. That's more than the Watchers Council ever did! We don't pop in, tell the locals to go home and then kill an 18-year-old girl who doesn't meet our standards on her birthday..."

The Monsignor reflected on that. "True enough. You don't have the hubris and arrogance of the Watchers Council...yet. So you may have more credible argument for an understanding than other organizations may have. Still, your ignorance of the occult is worrisome."

"Well, we're not as ignorant anymore as people think. After all, Mr. Harris has been *most* informative on some things; and remember that even before he came along, American soil has not been a stranger to weird events. After all, both Innsmouth and Jerusalem's Lot were in Massachusetts."

"Again, true enough, you do have some knowledge of things that the man on the street is better off not knowing about. Which is why I'm worried about a rumor coming out of England. Need I remind you about how the madness started in Jerusalem's Lot?" Bentallo actually seemed a little apprehensive at raising this point.

Esther sighed. "Agreed, we're not unaware of the dangers we face. That's one of the reasons we want your help. Outside the Watchers, the Church has the most experience in dealing with such matters."

"What would you be able to offer?" {This is reassuring, they're not too proud to seek help when they know they're out of their depth. Humility is a good thing, in this case. } The Monsignor felt there was ground for further discussions here.

"Well, superior resources for one thing. Remember Stalin's question about how many divisions the Pope had?"

Bentallo winced. "But as his successors have learned, we have great influence without armed forces."

"There are other special resources you could get access to; which you would no doubt desire," Esther referred to Xander Harris' knowledge of the future.

"Yes, the rumor mill has been quite busy about the special resource you speak of. The demon world, among others, has gotten into quite a frenzy over him. And Mr. Harris is now quite the globetrotter, from what I gather?"

Esther just smiled serenely at Bentallo. {You have no idea. }

**Tokyo International Airport, Tokyo, Japan. Later that day**

Xander looked out over the crowded airport terminal. For some reason, Cleburne hadn't been too torn up about him, Xander and Oz flying into a civilian airport on this trip. On a chartered flight of course, as commercial air travel for Mr. Alexander Lavelle Harris was still a big no-no.

He suspected that the older man felt quite comfortable here, within the Land of the Rising Sun; then suddenly, Xander remembered the story of the agents Joshua had met in San Francisco back in 1999, and the possibility that someone here knew who he was...

"What's the name of this demon again?" the former Scooby suddenly asked, clearing his mind.

Xander then looked around, and realized he and Oz had lost sight of Cleburne. They waited a second, as the senior Siberian turned the corner nearest them, pocketing the documents he had used to get them diplomatic treatment. "What's the name of this demon again?" Harris repeated for Cleburne.

"Yama Uba," the man in question replied. "The _Koan Choa Cho _thinks some recent disappearances may kinda be up our alley, so they asked for our help. Ah, here they are now..." Cleburne nodded at a trio of bureaucratic-looking men down the hallway outside from them.

Xander look puzzled. "_Conan Choe Chow_?" he asked, mispronouncing Cleburne's phrase.

"_Koan Choa Cho_," Joshua corrected him. "Public Security Investigation Agency. It's their version of the FBI and CIA, combined. And kid, it's probably best if you let me do the talking."

With that, Cleburne led the two former Sunnydale residents into the hallway where the three individuals greeted him. Introductions were quickly made. They were from a special duty squad, whose exact duties was a pretty murky subject for both them and Cleburne. Nonetheless, they seemed genuinely pleased to meet Xander and Oz.

**Mount Hiei, Japan. Two days later**

At the moment, Xander wasn't too happy with having come to this country. Being chased through the home of an incredibly ugly demon, had had the effect of souring him on the charms of the Land of the Rising Sun.

He had never before really thought of Japan being a mountainous place, oddly enough. After reading 'Shogun' last year, Xander was a little surprised to think of Japan as even *having* mountains. But then after all, most of his views about the country had come from watching such samurai and war movies, while growing up.

Neither of which had prepared him to deal with being chased by hideous hag of a female demon, who enjoyed feasting on human flesh. {Come on, why me all the time? Can't I catch a break, just once!? } he thought to himself, as Harris hurried up the ladder to the demon's attic.

{You know, for a hut, this place is a heckuva lot bigger on the inside than it looks on the outside... } As Xander got to the attic, pulling the ladder up behind him as he did so, and hid himself. He heard the demon rampaging through the house, shouting in Japanese.

Xander was momentarily thankful that he had gotten split up from Oz and Cleburne. Because the senior Siberian spoke Japanese, and Xander suspected he would have felt worse if he knew what the demon was saying.

Hikers had been disappearing from this mountain for a while now. Of course, it was normal once or twice a year for a hiker to vanish from...well, natural causes. In the past few months though, the number of the vanished had risen such that unnatural causes could be the only possible reason for them.

Then the personal effects of the vanished had shown up being fenced by the _Ganguro_, who were the Japanese version of teenage Goths in the United States. They were also known by the term 'Yamamba Girls', after the demon they dressed like, the demon Yama Uba. That told certain elements of the national police in the know what, or more properly who, they were facing.

Legend was that Yama Uba had once been human, an elderly woman forced out of an ancient village when she was no longer useful to the villagers. In her rage and abandonment, she had turned into a demon upon her death. At least, that was the legend.

Since then, travelers in the mountainous parts of Japan would sometimes encounter the demon. Sometimes, she would immediately attack and devour them. Other times she would trick them through various means, and *then* devour them.

And rarely, oh-so-rarely, on occasion she would let the traveler go unharmed...for a price. That was how the Japanese authorities knew where to look for her.

They had called in the demon experts from the United States. Because here was a chance to see the new cooperation in paranormal matters, that was the latest thing on the international grapevine that they had heard about.

It had worked well at first; the three Westerners had made their way to the region where the demon was, and started hiking. And it had taken only a few hours to find their quarry.

Or be found by her...

The three of them had come across a young beautiful girl, who said she was looking for her grandmother's shack. Cleburne had offered to help her look, then he'd translated the exchange for Xander and Oz.

Xander had made the comment that he thought they were looking for a demon. The senior Siberian had just replied that it sounded like Xander hadn't done his homework.

They had shortly thereafter come across a neat, well-kept small hut. The young girl had invited them in; Cleburne had accepted, again in Japanese. In English he had warned his companions to be ready for trouble, as soon as they got inside.

A warning that was wisely heeded by both of them, for as soon as they were inside - the image of a beautiful young lost girl faded away, to be replaced by what was quite possibly was the ugliest-looking woman Xander had ever seen.

And having seen Buffy with her bad hair day after being electrocuted, and the geeky chess club Cordelia with the nightmare hairdo from Hell, that was really saying something.

Her mouth had grown from ear to ear, and all of her teeth were rotting. She also had crooked features with long, white stringy hair. Xander thought he saw another mouth in the hair, but he hadn't gotten close enough to tell for sure, and had no intention of doing so either. Dust also seemed to rise up off her - in a way that reminded Xander of the character Pigpen, from those old 'Charlie Brown' cartoons.

A stench was coming off that had had made Xander gag at first, before his desire for self-preservation had kicked in and drove him to run from the demon. {That's how most of those poor bastards probably get eaten by her. The smell knocks 'em off their feet! }

The demon's hair had actually reached out and attacked them, so all the Siberians promptly undertook a quick retreat. In the rush, Xander had found himself separated from the other two. Spying the ladder to the attic, he'd figured taking the high ground would be a good idea.

"Kid?" He heard the sound of Cleburne's whispered voice. Xander looked around, thinking maybe the others had made it up to the attic also. But Xander's looking around the room did not reveal any signs of his companions.

"Kid!" This time Xander glanced down, and saw that his earpiece had fallen out and was hanging near his shoulder. He quickly reached down, and replaced it back into his ear.

"I'm here," Harris whispered into the throat mike he retrieved. At moments like this, he was glad that Cleburne insisted that everyone wear their communications gear anytime it even remotely looked like they would be dealing with big nasty things.

"And where is here, exactly?" Cleburne responded in an exasperated tone.

"Oops, sorry about that - I'm in the attic," Xander said into the mike.

"Alone, I hope."

"Yeah, I scurried up here when Quasimodo's uglier sister started that whole *me see, me eat* routine!" Xander listened for a second, to make sure the local demon wasn't bearing down on his position. "Is Oz with you?"

"I'm with grumpy," Oz's voice came over the radio.

"Where are you guys, anyway?" Xander kept his eyes focused to the hatchway that opened up down into the hallway below.

"Looks like we're in her laboratory, or whatever. Lots of potions around here. She seems to be quite the gifted chemist."

"That aside, any idea where she is?" Xander asked as he shifted his position.

"Not sure; it's not close by, but we can hear her shouting..." Cleburne paused for a second. "Okay, looks like she's closer to you than us. I hear her yelling the name Harris and needing for you to come out."

"Ahhh, she used the name Harris?" Now Xander was really worried.

"Yeah, kid, I know what you're thinking and I agree - looks like she set a trap for you."

"Well, what's she saying?" Xander was dependent on Cleburne for a translation of the demon's rantings, and didn't like that one bit. {I gotta learn more languages, given how much I travel these days. Better talk to the Wizard about that soon}

"Kid, you don't want to know."

"Mother Hen!" Xander snapped. "I'm asking, so I wanna know. Just tell me what's coming my way, already!"

Xander could actually hear Cleburne pausing, before an answer was forthcoming. "Well, kid, let's just say that she's talking to you in the same way Colonel Sanders used to talk to his chickens - before they got themselves deep-fried."

"Oh." Xander said, not missing a beat. "Gotcha. Well, here's the bad news - in the scuffle, I lost my sidearm. I've still got my knife, but I don't how much good that will do against that freaky hair of hers."

There was silence for a few seconds. "Okay kid, I got a way to get you out and maybe take care of the big ugly. You'll have to trust me, though."

"And I have a choice about that?"

"Actually, no, but what I'm going to ask you to do will sound...strange. Still, don't worry, it's worked before."

"How would you know?"

"Well, I spent a year based on Okinawa before I moved on to the show." Cleburne sometimes referred to his service with Siberian Trip Wire as the *show*. "While there, I got kinda *friendly* with a university student, who was studying the myths and legends of rural Japan. One of the tales she used to tell me about was Yama Uba."

"Then why am I the so-called expert? Seems to me you should have been the one the Japanese spooks asked for, and the one being hunted by the hunchback's rejects!"

A snort. "Like it or not, Harris, you've got the marquee name in the demon hunting business. Do you even know how many underground chat rooms there are about you now? The conspiracy theorists haven't had it this good, ever since the Princess Diana thing! Basically, you're the one with the movie star rep, in both the demon-hunting and demon circles..."

Xander sighed to himself. He remembered Buffy complaining when Dracula had come to Sunnydale in the first history, because of her reputation. Now *he* was in that position. Harris momentarily wondered if Dracula had been staked by now like in that other world, or if he would pop up in his future - not knowing that the world's most famous vampire had become the world's most famous pile of dust, a few months earlier.

"I'm famous like a movie star, huh? But I don't have any fans sending me stuff, or groupies offering themselves to me," Xander joked.

"They're overrated anyway - and in the rock and roll business? The roadies keep getting to them first," Oz dryly commented. Xander suppressed a laugh, just picturing the look Cleburne had to be giving the werewolf right then.

After a few seconds, Cleburne's voice came back over the radio. "Oooookay, here's the plan. Wolfie and I are going to work our way to your position slowly. While we do that, I want you to move around the attic, make some noise, let her know you're there, and most important of all...squeak loudly."

"What?" Xander said, louder than he had planned to.

"Trust me on this one, kid, you squeak like a rodent and move around. Yama will actually run from where you are. See you in a few minutes."

Xander mentally shrugged and started walking around the attic, not masking his movements anymore. After a few seconds he shouted out, "Squeak! Squeak! Squeakk!"

{This is insane} Xander thought to himself. Then he heard Yama Uba yelling out. He stopped for a second. The former slave didn't know what she was yelling, but he recognized the tone.

Fear, pure fear.

For whatever reason, she was terrified of the noise Xander was making. He could hear her voice growing faint, as he started making the noise again.

After a few minutes, the radio brought the voice of Cleburne to him. "We're below you, lower the ladder."

Xander, having spent so much time in a hell dimension, was by now cognizant of potential tricks from demons. "How do I know it's you?"

"West Point had two graduates become President - Grant and Eisenhower. While Annapolis has had only the one."

Xander recalled the conversation he had with Cleburne and Marcum, back in 1999 San Francisco. "And what did you call him, last time we had this sort of chat?"

"Peanut farmer," came back the reply.

Xander was satisfied, and lowered down the ladder. Beneath him, he could see Oz and Cleburne motioning for him to come down. So he hurried down the ladder.

"Okay, give, what freaked out the demon?" Xander asked when he got to the hallway.

"Found this," Oz said as he handed a pistol to Xander.

Cleburne piped up as Xander took the weapon, "Believe it or not, she thinks you're a mouse - and that gives us the advantage. So come on, we have to move quick!" Xander and Oz followed Cleburne towards the front of the shack.

As they came to the room full of potions and brewing pots, Cleburne paused and looked around. "Go on, give me about thirty seconds." Xander and Oz made their way to the door, but didn't exit. They stood there waiting for Cleburne.

After about thirty seconds, he came trotting up. "I thought I told you to go on," he said in annoyance, as the USMC colonel went out the door. Pausing for a second, Cleburne slammed it shut and jammed up a board against it to make sure it wouldn't open.

"No one gets left behind," Xander stated simply, as he followed the senior Siberian. And Cleburne actually seemed pleased by Xander's statement.

As they exited the hut, a horrible scream came up from behind. "Keep going till we're clear!" Joshua commanded. They trotted about thirty yards from the entrance, before they turned around.

Xander could see smoke billowing from the shack. He glanced over at Cleburne, who shrugged his shoulders. "Didn't want to get close to her, for her hair to introduce me to her teeth. I figure setting fire to her magic items and potions would stop her from using magic to escape. At the same time, we'll keep her bottled up from a distance for the fire to do its job."

Which is exactly what happened. The few times Yama Uba tried to get out through the door, the gunfire from the Siberians and the board jamming it shut, drove her back in. After a while, she tried to find other ways out. She didn't find any.

While they were waiting, Xander turned to Cleburne with an innocent look. "So, I have chat rooms talking about me? Do I have a fan club? Have people set up web pages about me, or anything?"

"Don't let it go to your head, kid. My opinion, over half the people in those rooms are operatives trying to get intel, so they can snatch you. The other half, well - they talk about you, the Force, Babylon 5, Captain Kirk, Sailor Moon and Animaniacs. No one takes them seriously," was the reply from the American secret agent.

"But still - I have fans," Xander declared with a goofy half-grin on his face, as Oz noted the brief reappearance of what had once been called the Zeppo.

Cleburne rolled his eyeballs to the sky. "Where's a bucket of stress balls when I need them?"

After about an hour, the three of them walked away from the smoldering remains of the hut. Cleburne looked back at Xander and Oz. "Gentlemen, I'll have you know there are some great bars for us to visit in Tokyo tonight. Really great places, you'll like them."

He glanced back at Xander with a sharp focus. "Now listen, kid - no handing out of literature about the Mormon church. I should have known you were up to something, when you asked Chalmers for all those pamphlets..."

**Unknown place, the same time**

Faith waved at the children, as their parents picked them up. She really enjoyed working here at the youth center. Giving something back to the community was important to her. And she'd pulled enough scams when she was that age, that the kids couldn't put much over on her.

She glanced at her watch. {Xander should be getting off from work at the construction site, right about now. I'll try to catch him before he leaves, and have him bring home some Mexican food. }

She leaned over, and picked up the phone on the counter in front of her. The young woman then dialed the number, and patiently waited for an answer.

"Hey J, it's Faith. Has my Xander-shaped stud left yet?" The brunette waited for a few seconds, for the other party to respond. "Twenty minutes ago. Well, I hope he's getting some food for dinner. Pizza? I was hoping for Mexican, but I suppose I can stand some pizza for tonight."

She listened for a few seconds. "Hey, just because I've got something cooking in the oven doesn't mean I can't enjoy good food! Oh, Xander told you about the ice cream and salsa, did he? Funny, he wasn't complaining that much last night..." Faith laughed. "Thanks, Jackie. I'll talk to you later on."

Faith LeHane-Harris hung up the phone, and grabbed her keys. She was looking forward to getting home, they were going to choose the wallpaper for the nursery tonight...

She walked out the front door of the youth center, quickly locking it behind her. As she walked across the parking lot, all of a sudden - a bright light seemed to come out of nowhere. Faith shielded her eyes for a second from the brightness, before it consumed her entirely.

**Wolfram & Hart building, Los Angeles, California. The same time**

Lilah Morgan stared at the orb on her conference room table. Previously dark and empty, it was now filled with a bright white misty light. All around her, the room was full of dead Shur-hod demon monks - who were sprawled out on the floor, their lives forfeit from the activity they had undertaken.

The last surviving monk, who was the leader, gasped at Lilah - his life force quickly draining away, like his evil brethren. "It's done, the soul has been delivered-" Then he keeled over, and joined his brothers in Hell.

Lilah nodded with a feral smile on her face, not caring about the dead things in the conference room. They were just replaceable hardware, anyway. In fact, if anything she felt glad that they were all dead meat - at least now she didn't have to listen to their excuses anymore, about how hard it was to summon a truly blessed soul from one of the higher realms.

Holding up the orb, she laughed to herself, "Good, excellent. Phase one's complete - now we just have to get word somehow to Mr. Harris, and he *will* come to us..."

TBC...


	16. Chapter 16

**Part Sixteen**

**Roanoke, Virginia. November 8, 2000**

In his temporary quarters Xander was dreaming of Faith the vampire Slayer, early that morning.

He dreamt of the last night of bittersweet half-innocence he'd ever had; as the next day, Harris had been kidnapped by Spike and Dru, and sent to that hell dimension. However, to put it bluntly, in all other ways that night had been *incredible*; the sex with the brunette Chosen One the best he'd ever had, and said act almost scrambling Xander's brains completely.

As they lay together naked in that motel room, basking in the afterglow, Faith raised her head to look at her bed partner. "Hate to use a cliché, stud, but was it good for you too?"

Xander laughed, and engaged in a tickling contest with the woman; which naturally he won. "What do you think?"

Faith pushed him away. "Yeah, I'm thinking someone's excited about tomorrow."

Xander shrugged. "What's happening tomorrow?"

The Slayer looked at him, and then slapped Xander on the head. "You get the results of your SATs, remember?"

Harris groaned, "Ouch! Slayer strength, sweetheart!" Then instantly he added, "And yeah, I remember-"

"Well, I should hope so!" Faith exclaimed. "After all - you gotta think about your future, boy toy. Apart from B, *all* of you guys need to do that; you, Dog Boy, Red, and even the snob-"

Xander scowled, uncomfortably reminded of his former friends. "I don't wanna talk about them - well, apart from maybe Oz..."

Faith just grinned, seizing the chance to tease her lover a little. "I know, but they still wanna talk to you. Especially that Cordelia chick - hey, ya know what? A box of Twinkies says she still has lustful thoughts about you. Should I be worried?"

The former Zeppo turned to look at her in amazement, but then saw the mirth in her eyes; something that in another world, would never have been present by this point in her life. And once Xander realized that they were still five-by-five, Faith grabbed hold of him and...

But then, the ringing of the phone roused Xander Harris from his slumber.

He mentally cursed, as a decent night's sleep was hard enough for the former slave to get these days. And having a phone call rouse him from a *very* pleasant memory did not help things, either. Xander then reached from where he was laying on the bed, and picked the receiver off the hook.

"What-?" Harris managed to mumble.

"AAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" was the primal scream he got in return. It did have the effect of fully waking up the former Scooby, though.

"Hello? What's wrong?" he asked, sitting up in his bed.

"You knew!" was the growled response. Xander now recognized the voice as that of Cleburne's. "That head of yours has all that weird stuff locked up in your brain cells, and you didn't think maybe we would like to know that the Presidential election would be a goddamn tie!?"

Xander smiled, and then silently gave thanks that Cleburne hadn't been mad enough to make his displeasure known in person. Then, the first notice Xander would have had of the man's ire would have been a stress ball being bounced off of his sleeping head.

The stress balls were playing quite a big role in Xander's training, these days. Every time the senior Siberian was able to bounce one off of Xander's head, a form of negative reinforcement would head his way.

And Cleburne was very creative in coming up with different forms of negative reinforcement.

Xander took a second to focus his thoughts. "Hey, I told you all up front, I wasn't telling you more than you spooks needed to know. Besides, what would you have gone and done if I *had* told you about the election? As we both know you would have done *something*..."

"Come on, kid! Tell me nothing hinky is going on. We actually had a Daley from Chicago talking on nationwide TV, about the need to count all the votes fairly! There has *got* to be demon involvement with that!"

Xander smirked. "Nope, that's just the irony of American politics. And it's also something you would have messed around in, if you had known about it ahead of time-"

"Of course I would have, Las Vegas! Can you imagine the odds of this happening? The bookies out there will take bets on anything. Can you imagine the moolah I could've made from something like this?" Cleburne exclaimed. 

In spite of himself, Xander laughed out loud. He halfway suspected that Cleburne would have done exactly that. He had a streak of devil-may-care roguishness within him; something Xander never would have imagined, a year ago. {Huh, has it really been that long since San Francisco? Wait a minute, Harris, focus! } "So what are you saying, you wanted me to contribute to you making money illegally?"

"Betting is not illegal in Las Vegas!" Cleburne shot back.

"Unethical, then!" Xander snorted. "Insider information. That's like betting on the Super Bowl knowing the starting quarterback has pulled a tendon, and is going to have to sit out the game."

"Speaking of which, the Super Bowl's in January..." Cleburne joked.

"Go back to sleep, Mother Hen. Don't worry about the election. I know who's gonna win anyway, if there's some kinda constitutional crisis or anything," Xander said as he hung up the phone and tried to go back to sleep himself.

**Stedman Medical Building, Sunnydale, California. November 9, 2000**

"Mrs. Summers, I see you certainly have a large entourage out there," Dr. Adams said, as he showed the middle-aged woman into his office.

"Well, you know that Mr. Giles has been bringing me to my appointments. But after I told them my daughters insisted on coming along, as did their friends Willow, Tara and Jonathan. As for Anya and her boyfriend, well, I suspect they just came along for the company. Sorry about that, those two can be...disconcerting at times..."

Dr. Adams nodded at that. "Yes, that young man did annoy the registration nurse quite a bit..."

He then cleared his throat for a second, and shifted back to the subject that had brought them together. "Well, Mrs. Summers, I've reviewed the MRI and X-rays that were taken of your tumor. Looking at them now, I have every confidence that the malignancy can be successfully removed. I've talked to Dr. Isaacs, and he concurs that surgery is the best option." He held up an X-ray and pointed to it. "As you can plainly see, the growth is here-"

Joyce held up her hands to stop the doctor's explanation. "Please, doctor. No need to go into detailed explanations. I must admit to being a little squeamish about learning details about the inside of my head," she smiled meekly.

Dr. Adams nodded in response. "Of course, please forgive me. I forget sometimes with how well you've held up, that I need to keep in mind that this is something you did not expect. I must say though, you're handling it remarkably well."

"Thank you, doctor. I've been fortunate to have strong support." { Not to mention a friend who was able to warn me ahead of time, what was coming. Oh Xander, I wish you were here right now - I *hate* it that you're gone from us! }

"Well, it's good that you have support of that nature. After all, you've managed to fill my waiting room this morning. So that means lots of people can help you, during your recovery."

"How long will that be?"

"Well, I'll want to keep you in hospital for observation for a couple of weeks. After that you should stay home for at least a month, preferably longer. You will need to take it easy, for quite a while."

"What about the gallery?" Joyce asked.

Adams shook his head. "I must ask that you stay away from full-time work, for at least a couple of months. Others will have to cover your job there for you."

Joyce contemplated what the doctor had said for a second. {Well, I hope Buffy's learned enough from working there to keep the gallery going. And she'll have Regina to help...} Regina was Joyce's assistant at the gallery.

"When will the surgery be?"

"Dr. Isaacs tells me he can have it set up for a week from Friday, on the seventeenth. We would want you to check yourself into the hospital on the fifteenth, however."

"Good, I'll call Regina to line everything up before next Wednesday then."

**West Palm Beach, Florida. November 10, 2000**

"Don't worry about the election," Cleburne said in a sing-song imitation of Xander's voice a few nights earlier. "Go back to sleep. Nothing to worry about."

Cleburne, Xander, Rachael and Graham walked into the government center of Palm Beach by way of a back entrance. They were careful to avoid the prying eyes of the national media outside, for the government building had become the center of the world's attention.

Because things like that happen to the center of the recount of votes in a U.S. Presidential election.

"I'm telling you, demons were not involved in the election that I remember. The weirdness came strictly from human beings," Xander shrugged.

"Well, *something's* going on! The psychics you helped us recruit all feel that something unnatural is about to happen here. That's also the scuttlebutt in the demon community. Someone, or something, is about to make the situation worse."

"Well, it's all news to me. In the first go-around, nothing like this happened," Xander commented.

"That you know of," Rachael observed.

Xander inwardly shuddered at that. It was true that none of the Scoobies had ever heard of anything demon-y about the year 2000 national election. But that didn't mean that nothing *had* happened. And now Xander was definitely uncomfortable with the thought of the American political scene being affected by demons.

"Well, I'm not sure what I can do to help. It's not like I'm a demon detector, or anything like that. I don't go beep-beep whenever I'm around them, and demons don't scream out when they see me..." {Well, apart from one ex-demon who shouted out my name on many occasions, of course.} Xander was momentarily saddened at the thought of Anya, who as far as he knew was still a demon punishing cheating men and exacting horrible vengeance upon them.

Cleburne glanced back at Xander. "Well, kid, you do seem to attract the strange things that go bump in the night. You have the talent for it. I can't leave you alone for more than ten minutes at a time, without you mixing it up with some demon or another."

Xander crossed his arms. "Hey, that's not true! There was that time in Philadelphia when..." Xander paused for a second. "Okay, bad example. However, remember that time in Seattle?"

Xander paused for a second, as Joshua glared at him. "What?"

"Vampire brothel," Cleburne said succinctly. {And I can't believe those guys were sick enough to pay for the undead hookers to boink their brains out! }

"You visited a vampire brothel?" Rachael asked with an upraised eyebrow, and maybe the slightest hint of jealousy.

Harris turned to the Israeli woman. "It was in the line of duty, and I didn't even know it was that kind of place when I went in. And *why* am I explaining myself to you, again?" He turned to Cleburne. "How about Miami?"

"Demon ring of jewel thieves," Graham said.

"Baltimore?"

"Lubber demons dealing cocaine. I swear, I don't know *how* you managed to just stumble onto a drug operation that had eluded the DEA for years in the space of an hour." Cleburne said, shaking his head.

"Cleveland?"

"Home of the other Slayer, who you *just* managed to avoid as she killed those Sathari demons. Hold on, before you mention any other place, I got a list here somewhere..." Cleburne said, as he rifled through his pockets.

"Oh, all right, all right!" Xander said in exasperation. "Forget I said anything, but I do have a question. Other than the bad guy showing up and announcing to the world he's a demon, how am I supposed to recognize the enemy? Somehow, I don't think that the baddie in this situation will just stroll up and tell us all about himself!"

"Hmmmm, good point. Still, kid, I have every confidence in your ability to attract trouble. We'll just have you hanging around, and no doubt *something* will come our way."

**Quantico Marine Base, Quantico, Virginia. ****Later that same day**

The room was filled with sitting soldiers conversing among themselves. They viewed the front of the room with some concern, where a steel cage was set up off to the side.

Then the side door opened up and in walked Oz, Gunny and a tall stocky blonde man in fatigues. Gunny shouted out, "Ten-hut!" And all the soldiers jumped to attention.

The blonde man stepped up to the front of the room, where a microphone was set up. "As you were." The soldiers sat back down. "Good afternoon, and welcome to Siberia."

The soldiers laughed amongst themselves for a few moments at hearing that, for they had already been brought into the loop, as to what Siberian Trip Wire's name used to stand for.

The blonde continued, "I'm Captain Riley Finn, United States Army Rangers. I'll be handling your orientation today. The colonel was called away unexpectedly, and let me just say - this was very lucky for you. Because Mother Hen isn't as nice I am."

That brought another chuckle from the group. Even though they were newbies, they had all heard the stories about their leader.

"I'm sure you've all heard the rumors, or been told what we're up against. Still, we thought a demonstration might be in order, and Mr. Osbourne has graciously agreed to help."

Riley gestured at Oz, who walked over to the cage and locked himself in. "Now, this is the best way to emphasize the situation to you. Don't be alarmed, and don't react to what you're about to see..."

And with that, Oz changed into a werewolf.

The soldiers sat there in shock at what they saw, as a snarling monster took the place of an ordinary guy in less than ten seconds. But after a few seconds more Oz morphed back into human form, and put on the second set of clothes that had been placed in the cell for him. As he did so, the former Scooby felt slightly embarrassed. {You'd think I'd be used to this, after all the times I've gone through it. 'Course, it's different turning human again and being naked in front of Willow, as compared to a room full of army soldiers. }

Riley turned back to the grunts. "Yeah, freaky I know - but trust me, this is only a peek at what is *really* out there. Vampires, witches, werewolves, demons - they're all real, and neither Bela Lugosi or Lon Chaney will be making a guest appearance today. So those of you who have doubts about what were you told, this should dispel them."

As Finn talked, Gunny let Oz out. "Thanks Osbourne, appreciate your help, so does the colonel..." Oz nodded at Gunny's words of thanks.

Riley ignored them and continued on, "One of the more usual targets are vampires, and you'll be receiving a full briefing on what's real and what Hollywood screenwriters make up as they sip their pinacoladas later. But first, I want to talk a little bit about ammo. As you can imagine, the weaponry we use for this assignment is somewhat different from your everyday average firearms..." Riley nodded to Gunny, who flipped off the lights in the room as a screen behind him lit up.

A picture of a bullet was shown up on the screen. "This looks like a regular bullet, however it's not. Lead poisoning isn't lethal on these things, so we've substituted some special filling in it. Namely, potassium in the tip. Now, those of you who remember your high school chemistry, will no doubt recall that potassium burns when it come into contact with water..."

The picture changed to a scene of a vampire. "Even though vampires are dead, they still have water in their bodies. You hit them with enough of these bullets, the potassium interacts with the water and you get smoldering undead. A smoldering vampire leads to a vampire on fire, which in turn leads to dust, which means a dead vampire, which is a happy ending for all of us."

One of the soldiers raised a hand. "Sir?"

"Yes?" Riley pointed at the questioning soldier.

"What about the things other than vampires? I'm assuming some of 'em might be bulletproof." The soldier stole a glance at Oz.

"Good point. That's one of the reasons the caliber of bullets will be larger than you're used to. The old 9mm slug is a thing of the past, as far as we're concerned; .45 caliber is the baseline for this outfit. We're hoping the larger caliber will handle the demons you encounter. We also have a few other modifications to throw at the Big Bads..." Riley nodded, and the picture changed to that of a silver bullet.

"Silver, I'm sure you all know it takes out werewolves. We also believe that it will have the same effect on some other demons. Now, every bullet you carry won't be silver, but there will be enough out there so you won't be caught short. Also, you'll be issued silver knives for hand-to-hand combat situations."

Riley paused for a second, before continuing. "And this brings up a point I want to greatly emphasize. Not every demon you encounter will be hostile to us. Oz here, is living proof of that!" Finn pointed over towards the lycanthrope.

He went on, "We can't just go in and kill every demon we encounter, no more than you can go in and kill every human you see in a normal combat situation. Many types of demons are just like average people - good, bad, or somewhere in between. Believe it or not, there's even a vampire with a soul living in Los Angeles, who's fighting the good fight on our side! That's why you have to pay *very* close attention to the rules of engagement given to you, at the start of each operation. It's your very own scorecard to tell the players from each other."

Riley looked out over the room. "If there are no further questions? Good, we'll start going over the schedule for the next few weeks. Since most of you are Special Forces-trained, we can skip the necessity of making sure you're in shape. Those of you who aren't from the military, I know went through a process to make sure you were ready for this training."

In the audience, FBI Agent Fletcher nodded at that. Ever since he had learned the truth that night in Pine Bluff, Arkansas, he knew he couldn't just sit on the sidelines anymore while others fought the evil things in the night.

The thing was, once you enter the real world there's no going back. Fletcher had looked at everything so very differently after that night; and even though he'd desperately wanted to warn his colleagues about what was really out there, he knew he couldn't - not without some office boy eventually stamping 'tooty-fruity' on his record, and thus destroying his Bureau career.

But how can you serve and protect, when you're hamstrung from effectively doing so? Thus, when the Siberians had approached him, he hadn't hesitated.

Riley continued on, "The rest of the day will be taken up with orientation lectures, on all the different types of demons and vampires we're familiar with. Tomorrow we'll cover methods of dealing with them, and after that..."

**The apartment of Rupert Giles, Sunnydale, California. November 13, 2000**

The Englishman stumbled to the door, to answer the pounding on it. Unfortunately, he tripped on the rug and crashed to the floor - but cursing, Giles then quickly regained his footing. The British guy then pulled open the door, and there on the other side stood Buffy with Anya.

The Slayer stormed into the apartment, followed closely by the ex-demon. "Giles, have you ever heard of this 'tirer la couture' spell? Anya was just telling me about it-"

Giles closed the door, and turned to follow the two women. "Why don't you come in?" he said with more than a trace of sarcasm. Then the G-man frowned, "Tirer la couture, oh...um, lift the veil. Yes, I-I've heard of it. A wizard in medieval France came up with it, Cloutier I think his name was. Ah, how is this linked to you waking me up at..." he glanced at his watch, and his eyes grew wide. "Four-thirty in the morning!?"

Buffy waved her hands in the air. "I know it's late. Or early, or whatever! But I couldn't sleep, so I went out and patrolled." Buffy left unmentioned the fact that the reason she couldn't sleep was that she had been crying alone on the back porch, over her worries about her mother's condition. Buffy being Buffy, she had halfway convinced herself that only supernatural reasons could be behind her mother's illness...

So she had gone out to 'patrol', and beat the truth out of the supernatural denizens of the Hellmouth. Unexpectedly though, they hadn't had any information on Joyce's condition. So the Slayer had then headed over to her mentor's magic store for research purposes...

Buffy continued her narrative, "I swung by the Magic Box, and saw the lights on. Then I went in and found Anya-"

Giles held up his hands to interrupt Buffy. "Anya, please tell me you were alone in there...?" The ex-Watcher still shuddered at the image of him interrupting the former demon and her boyfriend that time, in the basement.

Anya crossed her arms, and glared at Giles. "I'll have you know I was doing inventory, *alone*!" she emphasized.

Buffy looked a little put off by the interruption. "Yeah, she was alone, you can believe me on that. Because I kinda doubt she woulda been doing the dance of capitalist superiority like that, if anyone else was around-"

Giles paled a little bit. "The, the dance of capitalist superiority?"

"She was dancing with the money," Buffy said with a shrug. "Who cares? Anyway, we got to talking - about how to figure out who had put the hoodoo on Mom. Anya said it didn't sound like a curse or a vengeance Wish or anything like that; a tumor is too mundane for that sorta thing. Then she mentioned that wizard and how all the demons hated him back then, 'cause of that spell of his. How it showed whatever they were secretly up to. So it hit me, let's do that spell and see what magical influences there are over my mother!"

Giles hesitated for a second. {Hmmm. On the one hand, surely Xander would have told me in that letter if Joyce's condition was supernatural in nature, in any way. Then again, the boy possibly never had the advantage of an ex-vengeance demon's information on the supernatural. Or maybe he did, but knew there were no supernatural problems with Joyce? }

The ex-Watcher continued to frown. {Damn it, but who can know what that world was *really* like? I can't even be sure if Anya was around, in that reality! If Xander had been here for Willow to unburden herself, the odds are she'd have never gotten so upset as to inadvertently summon a demon, and make that Wish. Or perhaps he'd been here with us, when Anya appeared anyway to grant Willow's desires in the original history...? }

Buffy and Anya looked expectantly at Giles, and he finally spoke after a few moments. "Buffy, I-I-I understand your desire to attribute some dark and sinister forces to your mother's condition. However, all the doctors have assured us that her condition is a tumor that's arisen from natural causes. They completely understand what's going on. There's, there's no indication of anything supernatural in connection to what's happened-"

Buffy stood her ground. "Come on Giles, we're talking about the mother of the Slayer! Don't tell me that the baddies out there wouldn't love to get at me through her! They're just trying to use a different route this time. This way, there would be nothing to even tip us off that the bad guys were up to something. It's like the perfect crime!"

"That may indeed be so, Buffy, but then again there may not be anything to tip us off - because almost certainly there are no demons involved," Giles reproached his charge.

"Giles, look, I want to try this spell. Anya tells me that it's safe enough for me to do, and you can watch over me to make sure nothing goes wrong. If we hurry, we can even do it before everyone wakes up! What do you say?"

Giles thought for a second. {I suppose we can humor her on this, what's the harm in Buffy confirming that Joyce's condition is natural? And if perchance she's right, we need to know that too...} "Very well - but Buffy, I doubt we'll be able to gather together all the components of the spell before sunrise. So go home, get some sleep and we'll gather everything to do it this evening, after Joyce goes to bed."

Buffy smiled at her father figure, hugging him intensely. "Thank you, Giles. And I know once I do this spell, we'll know what the demons are really doing to my mom!"

**West Palm Beach, Florida. November 13, 2000**

Xander rubbed his eyes, trying to stay awake. The past few days had been very tiring for him. Actually, it had been tiring for all of them. Waiting around all set for something and then having nothing happen, was draining on all of the secret agents.

For the past three days, they had been staying in Palm Beach trying to find a lead on the rumored demon activity around the recount. The Siberians had patrolled and beat the streets for information. They had even gone to the local demon bar, to shake down the owner and his bartender snitches...

But it had all added up to a grand total sum of nothing.

As a last resort, several of the STW personnel had kept an eye on the actual recounting process. Every day they had come into the government center, and watched the counters. They'd also double-checked the security on the center in the off-hours.

But despite all their efforts, nothing had come to their attention. Still, they kept looking. Kept on their toes.

Right now, it was Xander and Rachael's turn watching the process. "I swear, this is like spectator Bingo - only without the excitement," Xander muttered.

"Yeah, well, you Americans - even though you're the most powerful nation on the planet, you have the most boring elections. Even when they fall apart, they're boring. Back home, our elections? Never a dull moment! Here it's hard to even stay awake," Rachael observed.

"I know, I know. Compared to what we've dealt with in the past, this is like watching paint dry," the guy responded with a shrug.

"You'd think that with everything at stake, there would be a lot more chaos around here," Rachael nodded, as Harris suddenly tensed up. "You know, once our watch is over, we ought to do something to wake ourselves up. I've got a few ideas, there's bound to be some good places to unwind-" Rachael's voice trailed off, as she noticed Xander's face.

He was looking thoughtful and troubled at the same time. "Chaos? No, it couldn't be, he's in a military prison...oh shit, wait, that was the Initiative's doing. And there's no Initiative here! So he would never have been taken into custody..." Harris turned to Rachael. "Gimme your cell phone, right now!"

**Georgetown, Washington D.C. Twenty minutes later**

"Marcum," Esther Marcum answered the phone on her desk.

She listened for a few seconds to the party on the end. "Good afternoon to you too, Cleburne. How's Florida? I see. Well, how about those vouchers? Remember, we need those before we cut your expense checks."

The woman listened a little bit more. "No, we can't just take your word for it. The bean counters need to know what you're spending our money on. They're still a little freaked out from your suggestion that all the ammo clips for field ops be silver bullets! Yes, they're almost convinced you spend money like a drunken sailor...or Marine, in your case. For all we know, you might take Mr. Harris and the others over to Orlando and Disney World, as it *has* been a while since you've all had a vacation..."

She listened some more to Cleburne. "No, I don't think that would be a good idea for a commercial, and I'm not contacting the Disney people about it. And, somehow, I don't think that Ms. Weitz's idea of fun would ever meet the Disney seal of approval! Anyway Cleburne, what can I do for you?"

Marcum then listened for several more minutes. "Yes, we can check that name, should be easy enough to run him down. Anything else to look under? Janice? Like the character from Friends? No? Spell it for me, then. J...A...N...U...S..." Esther wrote it down as Cleburne spelled it for her. "Not those people in Oak Ridge, I hope? Oh, demon and mythology related. Okay, I'll see what we can find for you."

**1630 Revello Drive, Sunnydale, California. Later that night**

Giles organized the components for the spell into a neat pile. He then looked across at Buffy and Anya, "You're sure you want to do this?"

Buffy nodded her head emphatically. "Yeah, we gotta find out what's happening to my mother! Is everything ready?"

"Yes, quite. Has everyone else gone to bed?" The three of them had decided to keep it a secret what they were up to, so they had waited until Joyce and Dawn had retired for the evening.

"Mom and Dawn are sound asleep. I checked on them, right before you came over."

Giles took a breath. "All right then. Now Buffy, you'll be in a trance. You'll still be aware of what's going on around you, but you'll see things...that human beings normally can't see."

"Huh?"

Anya stepped in to translate from Watcher-ese into Buffy-ese. "You'll see things we can't see. For example, if something's magically choking your mother, we wouldn't see anything. However, you'll see a hand choking your mother's throat. The veil of magic is lifted for your eyes to see. You'll see what you would normally see, and more."

Buffy nodded in understanding. "Gotcha, so I gotta be on the lookout for anything that looks out of place?"

Giles rolled his eyes. "I thought I said that. All right, let us proceed."

Anya piped up, "That means let's get started."

Buffy frowned. "I knew that."

Giles rolled his eyes again. {Being the only real adult in this group will be the death of me yet! } "All right Buffy." He handed over to the Chosen One a book opened to the proper place, and pointed. "After the ritual with the herbs, chant these words and wait a few seconds. There will be some disorientation. Just concentrate though, and you should do fine."

Buffy did as Giles told her. And once she was under the spell, she started upstairs towards her mother's room.

**Ten minutes later**

Dawn stared at her sister; she had woken up and walked out of her room into the hallway, to find a dazed Buffy staring at her. "Buffy? What's wrong?" she asked.

The blonde Chosen One just stared at the Key in response.

Dawn was getting worried. "What, are you sleepwalking or something? Talk to me!"

Still there was no verbal response from the Slayer, she just walked past Dawn - right into her sister's room.

"Hey!" Dawn almost shouted, and then dropped the volume of her voice as she remembered her sleeping mother. "What-?" The Key then followed her sister to the door.

Buffy was standing just inside the doorway, just looking around when Dawn got into her bedroom. "What are you doing, Buffy? You just can't barge into my room, anytime you feel like it!" Dawn hissed, annoyed that her big sister wouldn't even look at her.

Buffy just stood there for a few seconds more then walked out of the bedroom, leaving behind a very confused Dawn Summers.

**The back porch. Ten minutes later**

Buffy, Giles and Anya all stood around facing each other. They had moved out there, to avoid any chance that Dawn might overhear them.

"Buffy, what's wrong? What did you see around your mother?" Anya whispered worriedly.

The vampire Slayer shook her head. "No, there was nothing weird about Mom. I saw something else, or rather - *didn't* see..."

Giles looked at Buffy, a little surprised. "Something's wrong? Demons are present on the premises?"

Buffy looked confused. "No. Yes. I don't know! I went into Mom's room, and didn't see anything unusual. There was nothing around her, no indication of magic at all; so you were right and I was wrong, the tumor *is* just her body betraying her. Then right before I left, I glanced over at her dresser and saw the family picture of Mom, Dawn and me. You know, the one from that day before graduation?"

Giles nodded, as he had actually been the one who took it. Buffy continued on, "Well, it just *changed* every few seconds. At first all, all three of us were in it. Then it was just my mother and me! Afterwards I went out into the hallway, and Dawn was there-"

Anya looked at Buffy. "And? I'm told that siblings can be difficult. I wouldn't know that for sure, never having had one. Still, I don't see how that would spook you this way-"

"Anya," Giles said, hoping to head off another commentary from Anya on the vagaries of human life. "Go on, Buffy, please."

"Well it's that she was there, then she wasn't there. She kept kinda blinking in and out of my sight. And it wasn't her hiding or ducking behind a corner, I mean she was standing right there and then without moving - she, she just vanished for a few seconds! Oh, and then I walked into Dawn's room. And it *really* got freaky then! One second it was her part of the house, with everything you'd expect in a 14-year-old's bedroom. Then it was-"

"What, Buffy?" Giles asked, feeling worried now.

"It, it was like we were storing stuff in that room. Boxes were stacked all over the place. Prints, paintings and sculptures were in there. Oh, there was this one mask that really should have been at the gallery. I think it would sell quickly, what with the craze over West African art right now..."

Buffy looked at Giles and Anya, who were staring at her. "What? All that time working at Mom's gallery, *some* things have sunk into my head!"

She cleared her thoughts, and then continued on. "Anyway, it was like the room wasn't being used for anything. None of Dawn's stuff was in it. It just didn't make any sense to me."

Buffy looked confused. "What can it mean? I don't get it, here I was worried about Mom and now Dawn pops up as...as what? I don't even know what to make of all this!"

Giles crossed his arms for a second, he then took off his glasses and polished them for a few seconds. "I don't know, Buffy, what you describe is-is something I've never heard of before. Maybe a disguising spell - but no, then only Dawn herself would be affected, not her room and things..." He turned to the younger-looking lady who had a larger knowledge of demons than he did. "Anya, have you ever heard of anything like this?"

She shook her head. "No - in all my years, I've never come across anything like that! Hmm, it definitely sounds magical in nature though. And yeah, something's up with her annoying sibling!"

Buffy looked shaken at the uncertainty of the situation she found herself in, and didn't react to the insult. "So, what do we do?"

Giles gently placed his hand on Buffy's shoulder. "For now, you need to focus on getting ready for Joyce's surgery. Remember, she goes into the hospital the day after tomorrow. That should be your main priority for now. Keep an eye on Dawn for anything, well, out of the ordinary. In the meantime I'll do some research on this, a-and with Anya's help try and find out what your vision of Dawn means."

**Georgetown, Washington D.C. November 14, 2000**

Esther Marcum absentmindedly dialed her phone. She waited a few seconds, as it rang and was answered.

"Joshua? Esther here. I've got the results of the searches you asked for. You ready?" She waited a few seconds, as she heard Cleburne hunting around for a pen and a piece of paper.

"Okay, Ethan Rayne, British national. Quite an active fellow, I have to say. Passport control shows that he's entered and exited the country quite often, during the last few years. Most of the time, he seems to have done so through Los Angeles. And get this, in the records of the Sunnydale Police Department that our people managed to squirrel away, he's mentioned more than once! It looks like he's some kind of chaos mage. He should be mentioned in the personal diaries of that Rupert Giles fellow, when you get around to reading them. Pay particular attention, to the period of time around the Halloween of 1997. Apparently, he likes causing problems..." She listened for a few seconds.

"Yes, the recount would be like a huge honeypot for someone like this Mr. Rayne. Customs records show that he entered the country about a week ago, through Atlanta. A connecting flight to West Palm Beach is recorded. So, he should be in the area..."

Esther turned her attention to a second piece of paper on her desk. "As for Janus? Quite a few references to that, all over the place. Most of them are a bust for our purposes. Did you know it's listed as an insurance company in Florida?"

Esther listened for a few seconds to the grumbling on the other end. She chuckled a few times, "Cleburne, you need to listen more carefully to me in the future. I said *most* of them, not all. Apparently, there's a snack food company by the name of 'Janus' down there - and get this, it was incorporated the last week of October. And guess what they're doing solely out of civic virtue?"

**Janus Snack Food company, Palm Beach, Florida. Two hours later**

The chimes rang, as the door swung open. The two men who had entered looked around the front of the office suite, in which no one was to be seen. "Hello?" the older of the two men called out.

After a few seconds a rustling could be heard in the back of the office. Presently a man that looked roughly the same age as Rupert Giles came into the reception area, "Hello, may I help you?"

The older man presented some credentials. { Let's see, what are we today? Oh yeah, FBI agents, that's right! } "Good afternoon, I'm Agent Cleburne from the FBI. This is my partner, Agent Miller." Cleburne nodded towards Graham. "We're doing some security checks on the local government center, talking to the caterers, and the like. Thought we should come talk to you, since your company is donating snacks to the vote counters over there."

Ethan Rayne immediately felt uncomfortable. However, he kept himself under tight control. {They're looking for poison, and the like. They have no way of knowing what's really wrong with the snacks, and how to find out. Just play it calm.} "Of course, I'll be glad to help Agent Cleburne. I have all the necessary papers of incorporation in the back. If you'll just wait here."

Ethan turned and walked back to his office. With a start, he realized that the two FBI agents had followed him deeper into the office.

Cleburne peered into the back of the office, where the storerooms were. "All of your product goes through here? Seems like a bit much, for such a small operation."

Ethan looked at his guests. {Can't you bloody Yanks understand what 'wait here' means? } "Well, we're just getting started. I like keeping control over all aspects of the operation, you see. Once we get bigger, that will have to change - obviously."

Cleburne continued looking around. "So, how many employees you have working for you?"

Ethan started to hem and haw. "Well for now, it's just me, everyone else like the drivers are independent contractors." He watched as Graham wandered towards the door that Ethan had come from. "You know how it is, with start-up businesses-"

Cleburne nodded at that. "Yeah, sure do. They tell me that 50% of all new businesses fail, within the first six months. But then again, you probably know that, what with your costume shop."

Ethan nodded, not really paying attention to the words. "Yes, in the past I've - *what* did you say?!"

Cleburne glanced around some more, ignoring Rayne's question. "Still, I applaud your determination in trying again. Free enterprise - it's what makes our country so great!"

The Englishman was definitely worried now. "I say, what was that about a costume shop?"

Graham tried the door of the office where Ethan had been, when the Siberians had arrived in the office. "What's in there?"

"Now look here!" Ethan suddenly blustered. "I want you to leave, right now! Without a search warrant you have no right to be in here without my permission, and you most certainly do not have my permission. So unless you have your court order, GET OUT!" Ethan pointed at the exit as he exclaimed.

Cleburne looked at Graham. "You know, that *would* be a problem for us if we were real FBI agents. Lucky for us, we're not."

Ethan looked at the two agents. He knew in his gut that whatever was going on, it was most certainly not good for him. Cleburne continued talking, "I imagine for someone who worships chaos, the election recount was a golden opportunity. So, what did you do? Put a hex of some kind on the food, and then donated it to the vote counters! What was the hex supposed to accomplish? Render the vote counters blind? Cloud their perceptions?"

On instinct, Ethan bolted down the hallway from the two agents. He'd heard enough to know that he needed to be elsewhere right now.

Graham started to follow him, but stopped when Cleburne waved his hand at him. "You letting him go?" the younger agent asked.

"Nah, I just know he already has a welcoming committee out the back..." Cleburne fiddled with the lock on the door Ethan had been worried about. The door swung open. "Besides, I think *this* is what we're after..." He entered the room and found a two-faced statue in the middle of the floor, with a symbolic pattern drawn around it. "Bingo!"

Ethan hustled through the storeroom, not looking to see if he was being pursued. He went through the loading docks to the back alley, whereupon he spotted his car and headed towards it.

"Hey there, Ethan, leaving so soon?"

Rayne turned to face the source of the question. He saw a twenty-something young man wearing black leather and with a nasty scar on his neck, walking towards him - accompanied by a beautiful brunette woman, of approximately the same age.

"I mean c'mon, after all, that seems to be a pattern with you - running off, and not helping clean up the mess you make!" the young man added.

Ethan peered at the stranger. "Do I know you?"

The Yank laughed, but with an ugly tone. "Well, it's not nice for the old ego to hear that - but then, I gotta admit, I may not have made that big of an impression at the time. Since you were more interested in selling a noblewoman costume, to a friend of mine...Halloween, 1997? Remember that fun occasion? How many people died that night because of you, I wonder?"

Rachael noticed that Xander's voice caught a little bit, when it mentioned the word 'friend'. {What's up with that?}

Ignoring the barb, Ethan thought back to the costume shop he'd had then. He remembered the noblewoman costume, and who had bought it; he had sold it to that blonde Slayer of Ripper's, who had been there with her groupies. He then frowned, trying to remember what her friends had been called - but found that he couldn't, it was too long ago.

"Sorry I don't recall your name, old boy, but I remember your face now. Yes, you were there that day; bought a toy gun, as I recall! How'd that work out for you? And that nasty business later with my old chum Eyghon, you were there for that too - weren't you?" Ethan continued edging towards his car.

Xander's eyes glittered. { I suppose technically I should be grateful to the guy, as without those soldier memories - right now I'd be dead of old age, and Ken would be laughing his ass off on how easy it is to get slaves from this dimension! And Eyghon?! Ms. Calendar coulda been killed that night, you bastard! }

"That was several lifetimes ago, British man. And unfortunately, you seem to be up to your old tricks again..." Harris snarled, as he approached the chaos mage. Ethan didn't say anything in reply, he just started running.

He didn't get far, as Harris easily caught up to him. He grabbed the fleeing chaos worshipper by the back of his neck, and slammed him hard into the hood of his car. Ethan staggered for a second; and Xander quickly followed up with a strike to the back of the head, that instantly rendered his foe unconscious.

Rachael walked up to the comatose body of the chaos mage. "Remind me to stay on your good side from now on," she commented to her companion.

"Oh, don't worry. This guy *really* had to work at it, to get on my bad side!"

At that moment, Cleburne's head popped out of the back of the office suite. He quickly surveyed the scene, "Hey kid, what do I do to KO the spell?"

Xander looked up. "If it's the same setup as three years ago? Break the Janus statue." He noticed the confused look on Cleburne's face, "The statue with two faces?"

Cleburne nodded. "Thanks, kid!" And he disappeared back into the office. A few seconds later, both Xander and Rachael clearly heard the sound of something heavy being smashed to pieces.

**Marriott Hotel Lounge, Palm Beach, Florida. Later that night**

Xander drank his beer, amidst the crush of humanity in the hotel bar. At first, he had been worried about being there; but Cleburne, who was sitting further down the bar, had explained the situation to him.

"Look kid, these people in here are at the top of the food chain in the national media circles. They not only think they're God's gift or whatever, they think the whole *world* revolves around them, which in turn means, they wouldn't know a real news story unless it got up and bit them on the ass! So - I'm pretty sure that as long as you don't stand up on top of the bar, announce at the top of your lungs you're from the future and then tell them what's gonna happen in the next few days, they'll never have a clue who or what you are."

Surprisingly, the secret agent had been right. The reporters who were in the bar were clearly so self-absorbed that they didn't question in the least Xander's, or the other Siberians' presence there. If anything, they had only seemed somewhat annoyed that the STW operatives hadn't really been all that deferential to them, the way others in the bar had been.

"So, what's a guy like you doing in a nice place like this?"

Xander turned around, and noticed that Rachael had come up next to him at the bar. Several of the male reporters cast appreciative glances her way, looks that the woman completely ignored. {Let 'em dream on. There's only one man in here that I'm interested in! }

"*This* is a nice place?" Harris asked sarcastically, as Rachael sat down on the barstool next to him.

"Hey - a bar, loud music to dance to, dim lights, charming company and the chance to relax after a successful mission. That's my definition of a nice place," Rachael said with a shrug. She motioned to the bartender, and when he came up to her the Israeli agent ordered something very toxic to her liver.

"Well, I'm not sure we're completely out of the woods yet," Xander commented, staring off into the distance with a brooding expression that would have made Angel proud.

Rachael's drink arrived, and she took a sip. "Cleburne called the Gulag earlier. Apparently, all the early warning systems are now saying 'all clear'. Looks like that Rayne guy was what got them all riled up in the first place."

"So it's back to training with Mother Hen then," Xander sighed. "He told me before coming here that I was ready to learn something called Jeet Kune Do and Pentjak Silat. I don't even know what that means. Do you know? I asked Gunny and Graham before coming down here, and all they did was grimace."

Rachael grimaced at Xander's words. "Sorry."

"There you go. What's the big deal about this new training from Mother Hen? Everyone seems to think I'm a condemned man or something."

Rachael took a sip from her Bloody Mary. "It means that Cleburne thinks you're ready for advanced hand-to-hand training."

Xander looked a little offended. "Advanced? I think I'm pretty good at it now."

Rachael shrugged. "Cleburne's been doing this for 20 years. He's got quite a few tricks up his sleeve. He could probably teach the Slayer quite a few things..."

Xander raised an eyebrow at that. Thoughts of Cleburne dealing with Buffy popped in Xander's mind, and in spite of himself he grinned. Rachael saw the smile, "There you go. Look at it this way - no matter what, you're going to have a better Thanksgiving than Ethan Rayne."

Xander nodded. "Then I guess everything works out all right, in the end. Kinda funny that with all the changes from the first go-around, he ended up in the exact same place where he did before..." Earlier in the evening, Rayne had been shipped off to a U.S. military installation for imprisonment, just like in the original history. "Well, what now?"

Rachael grinned, as she ordered another Bloody Mary. "A little time to relax, Alexander. A night for us to party, and have some fun. You *do* know how to do that, right? If not, I'll be happy to help you learn how..." She then stared at Xander with a look that most of the men in the bar, and several of the women, wished had been sent their way. "I figured we could use the time to...get to know each other better."

Xander briefly glanced at Rachael. "You just never give up, do you?"

Rachel grinned some more. "Of course not. It's part of my charm." Xander snorted. "Come on, all kidding aside, I can tell something's bothering you. If you want to talk about it - off the record - I'm here."

Harris glanced at her again. "*Nothing* is ever off the record in this business, Rachael."

The brunette just placed her hand over his. "Just for tonight. I promise."

Xander stared at their hands, before gazing off into the distance again. Then he started talking, "It's just - seeing Ethan again today, it's brought back so many memories. Things that I prefer not thinking about."

Weitz hesitated. "You mean, your high school years?"

He nodded. "Do you know how much it hurts for me to even *think* about my senior year? Trying to keep separate the conflicting memories of Buffy, Willow, Giles, Faith, Cordelia, Oz, Angel - everyone and everything - I swear, it's a goddamn nightmare. One of these days, for sure, I'm gonna end up with an aneurysm from it-"

"Don't say that," Rachael interrupted him at once, the concern on her face evident. The she attempted to lighten up the situation, "After all, if you die - what reason will there be for me to remain in the land of the brave, and the home of the free?"

Xander finally turned around to stare at her - but said nothing at all. But both of their hands stayed on top of each other. At the other end of the bar, Cleburne observed Xander and the Israeli agent - a half-smile flashing on his face for a second, gone as soon as it had appeared.

**Sunnydale Memorial Hospital, Sunnydale, California. November 15, 2000**

"Do you have everything you need, Mom?" Dawn asked, with a touch of sadness in her voice.

Joyce smiled at her youngest, as she and her two daughters walked into the hospital to check in for Joyce's surgery. "Yes dear, you and your sister did a very good job of packing back at the house. I've got everything I need from the doctor's list. Everything else we could think of is in there..." She pointed at the large suitcase that Buffy was carrying, sometimes having a Slayer as her offspring was a handy thing. "I've also got my two daughters. What else could I need?" Joyce hugged her children.

The blonde woman then looked at her eldest. "You've been quiet the last little bit, is everything all right?"

Buffy nodded her head. "I'm fine. Just a little shook up with everything." She deliberately avoided looking at Dawn.

"I know, dear. Don't worry though, everything will be all right," Joyce comforted Buffy.

Of course, 'everything' for Buffy included some items Joyce was unaware of. The Slayer had been keeping an eye on Dawn; ever since the night of the 'lift the veil' spell, she had been observing her sister to see if anything...strange happened. As yet, nothing out of the ordinary (well, for a 14-year-old female hormone bomb) had taken place.

And in addition, Giles hadn't been able to learn anything from his research, even with the help of the Scoobies.

"Now Buffy, I want you to take care of everything back at the house while I'm here. Also, I'm counting on you to keep an eye on things at the gallery while...oh, there's Dr. Adams." She pointed at her doctor who was standing in the lobby with two other doctors, one of whom was wearing a Navy uniform.

"Joyce. It's good to see you looking well. You already know Dr. Isaacs?" her physician asked.

Joyce nodded. "Of course, doctor, and these are my daughters - Buffy and Dawn."

Dr. Isaacs smiled and nodded at the Summers girls. "Don't worry, your mother will be given the best care possible while she's with us."

Dr. Adams turned to the man in uniform. "Ah, this is Commander Bert Chalmers. He's a U.S. Navy surgeon, who's visiting the hospital this week."

The military officer smiled at Joyce. "Mrs. Summers, I heard about your case. With your permission, of course, I'd like to assist in the surgery? Because I've had more than 20 years experience regarding this type of operation, with people in the Navy."

"In the Navy?" Joyce looked questioningly at the military doctor.

"Not everyone in the Navy is 20 years old, ma'am. We also have dependents of servicemen that we treat, as a matter of course. I assure you, Mrs. Summers, this is not my first time at the dance with this particular operation."

Joyce smiled at Chalmers' statement. "I hope you're a good dancer."

"Excellent, actually - my wife tells me that's why she married me."

"If your wife says so, then you must be. Of course you have my permission, doctor. The more of you in there to help, the better I'll feel," Joyce said.

"Yeah, the more the merrier. You *are* a good doctor, aren't you?" Dawn asked, looking at Isaacs and Chalmers.

Dr. Adams answered her, "I can personally vouch for both of them. Now, let's get your mom checked in..." He beckoned to a nearby nurse, who brought over a wheelchair.

**The apartment of Rupert Giles, Sunnydale, California. Later that day**

The former Watcher ran his hands through his hair in frustration. He had been researching ceaselessly, ever since Buffy had done the spell that had raised questions about Dawn.

Unfortunately, the sum total result of his research could be summed up in the phrase 'big fat zero'.

Even with the help of Anya and the rest of the Scoobies, nothing had been uncovered. Giles really wanted to find out something to try and reassure Buffy; his Slayer had so much going on right now, that the British man really wanted to help her out in some way.

Of course, he also wanted to know if there was something demon-y going on in the Summers household. Part of being a Watcher - by any other name - was knowing what was going on around your Slayer.

Giles stood up, and walked into the kitchen to pour himself a cup of tea. { Maybe a break for a few minutes would help. } He walked to the door of the apartment to get the mail, and then walked back into the apartment, idly flipping through the collection of letters and junk.

He suddenly stopped.

Because there was an envelope in there, that had the date stamp of May 21, 1999 on it.

Giles had let it slip his mind, during the last week or so. Xander's next letter had been due sometime this month. And today of all days, was the time it had decided to arrive.

Giles was *very* thankful that none of the Scoobies were at his apartment at the moment. He willed himself to be strong for what was to come. {Last time, Xander dropped the bomb of Joyce having a brain tumor. Who knows what's coming up now? }

The Englishman sat down at his dining table, and hurriedly opened the envelope. He then started to read.

_Dear Giles,_

_Hey there, British man. It's me, Xander Harris. Again. Been a while since you've thought of me, huh? Well, that's okay. Hopefully you've been getting on with your life, ever since you got my last letter. And if you're reading this in England or something and *didn't* get my last letter back in July, get your ass back to Sunnydale on the double! Check out the dead letter office in town, and read what I wrote to you about Joyce - before you do anything else._

_Well, I assume you're all caught up now. So, onto business! Thing is, Giles, if you've never heard of anyone called Dawn Summers, then don't bother reading any further - just skip to the end of the letter. If you *have* heard of her, well, I need to tell you some things about the girl in question._

_First of all, she's a real person; a living, breathing, 'blood flowing through her veins' human being._

_However, as much as you and everybody else might think otherwise, Joyce did not actually give birth to her. And I don't mean that she's adopted, either; damn, but there's no easy way to say this, so I'll just say it straight out._

_Dawn was created by magic._

_Yeah, you read that right. Some monks in Europe, from the Order of Dagon as I recall, created her in this world - the same as they did, in the one I remember. They did this because they wanted to hide something called the Key. And before you ask, this Key has the ability to open the gates between all the different dimensions out there. The downside being that when the gates open up, all the other dimensions come flowing through, bleeding into and mixing with our own._

_To paraphrase the future you, "Hell would literally come to Earth."_

_Look, what happened originally was that the monks wanted to hide the Key from a hellgod named Glorificus, or Glory. And about that damn bitch - problem was she wanted to use the Key to go back home, and take over her hell world, which means end-of-the-world scenario. Those monks figured that they should put the Key into the shape of something the Slayer would die to protect, in order to best safeguard it._

_A baby sister._

_Dawn._

_Okay, calm down G-man. Breathe. That's it. Now bottom line - someone, for some reason, has convinced the monks to make her human, instead of letting Dawnie spend the rest of eternity as a great big ball of glowing energy. And odds are that just like before, those guys created memories of her in the rest of you. See, I remember her being around ever since Buffy and Joyce came to town in 1997; still, if things are like I expect, she's only existed amongst you guys since some time during August this year. But she's a Summers woman, I promise you - because the monks took some of Buffy's essence to create Dawn._

_The only people who can see Dawn any different are those with some form of mental illness, or gift of second sight, or whatever. They see her as some sorta glowing green light, or at least that's what I understand. So, just a thought, it would definitely be a *bad* idea to take her on any field trips to the mental ward at Sunnydale Memorial!_

_Now, if Glory somehow shows up, be careful. She was one mean tough bitca, and the cost of putting her down was a high one - *too* high, if you ask me. However, you shouldn't have to be concerned about her. I've done something before I wrote this letter, which should mean that...you guys don't ever have to worry about her._

_But knowing the Scooby gang's luck, it pays to expect the worst. So, a quick description; she's short, blonde, dresses like a fashion model, and is incredibly vain (by which I mean *really* obnoxious). Hell, Buffy once described her as being like a blonde Cordelia! You ever come across her, get the whole gang together and get the hell out of town till after May, 2001; there's a specific time Glory has to use the Key in order to go home, and you eventually learn exactly when._

_I'll fill you in more on the details of that in the next letter. Above all else, keep Dawn away from her and her little toadies. If they get her and start the ritual, the only way to save the world is for one of the Summers sisters to die. Remember, the monks used Buffy's essence to create Dawn. I had to bury one of them, and I don't want that to happen again. _

_By the way, you might want to keep an eye on Willow's research into magic. I'll explain more in the next letter - it'll make more sense then. _

_Getting back on-topic, Giles, Dawn doesn't know she's any different from you or me, if the monks did what they did the last time. So, don't let her know the truth; with any luck, she'll be able to live out a normal human lifetime, and never have to know about any of this. Because when Dawnie found out the truth during the first go-around on Buffy's 20th birthday, she took it *really* badly - and that little fun episode involved razor blades, and cutting herself to see if she was real._

_Not of the good to remember. So I leave it up to you, as to whom to tell._

_And no matter who you tell? Remember this._

_Dawn is a human being now, she has human feelings and is for all intents and purposes Joyce's daughter and Buffy's sister. She just got created a little bit differently to the rest of us. So, don't you treat her any differently than you did before you read this letter, understand?_

_Well, that's it for this little glimpse of the future. If all goes as planned, you should get another letter around March or April or so. Again, if you do find it necessary to tell the others about Dawn, please don't tell them how you found out about all this; there's no reason to freak them out even more than they would be, just with the news about the Key. _

_Live safe and take care of the family,_

_Xander_

Giles leaned back in shock, having finished reading the letter. He dazedly ran his fingers through his hair, {Bloody hell, I swear - that boy, even when he's dead, manages to stir things up even worse than any demon I've ever encountered! Now *how* am I going to explain any of this, to Joyce and Buffy? }

**Warehouse 23, unknown location. November 16, 2000**

"Let me out! I said let me out!"

Ethan Rayne stalked around the cell he had been put in. One side of it was open to the corridor with a glass wall, and cameras were present in each corner of the cell.

Ethan was frustrated, with some holes in his memory. Those fake FBI agents had been the last people he had interacted with. He had been running from them, when everything had gone black. Next thing he had known, he had awoken in this cell. And that had been two days ago.

Since then, he had not seen anyone. His meals had appeared through a food slot in the back of the cell. He was actually unsure how long he had been there, as the lights in the cell never dimmed. Ethan had eventually tried pounding on the glass wall; and that must have attracted someone's attention.

After ten minutes of pounding, the chaos mage had received an electric shock from the wall. He hadn't tried to repeat that trick since.

"I am a British citizen, you know. I demand that you contact the British embassy!" he shouted.

"Somehow, I kinda doubt that Her Majesty's government will lose much sleep over the fact that you're in *our* custody."

Ethan turned to the source of the statement. Joshua Cleburne was standing in the corridor, looking in at Rayne. "You there! Agent Cleburne, isn't it? Let me out this minute, damn you. Where am I? And what do you want with me?"

Cleburne just looked at Ethan. "Hmmm, let's take those questions one at a time. Firstly, you're in Warehouse 23." He held his hand to head off Rayne's question. "Don't ask, it's one of those places which don't exist, and where we keep things and people that don't exist."

Ethan paled a little bit at that comment.

"And as to what I want? Let's just say I'm here to make you an offer that you *can't* refuse."

**Georgetown, Washington D.C. Later that night**

"Are we even sure about this? At most - right now, we know only rumors and hints. We can't go running off half-cocked, based on what our current knowledge level is," a middle-aged, balding man said.

Esther Marcum looked across the conference table at him. "I believe the information is reliable. Besides, two of our psychics have confirmed that something has happened."

"Something, but not what exactly," the balding man interjected.

"Come now, we all know it's something directed at Mr. Harris! Wolfram & Hart has been trying every trick they can possibly come up with, to get to him. This is just more of the same," Esther replied.

The balding man folded his arms in front of himself. "That's just your opinion. Besides, I'm not even sure if such a thing is possible. It seems...wrong, somehow."

Esther's brow furrowed. "Value judgements don't enter into this. And clearly, the Watchers Council thinks differently. They sent a team to Sunnydale to do almost the exact same thing a year ago, remember? We have to relay this information-"

At the head of the table, a distinguished elderly gentleman leaned back in his chair and tapped his pipe on the table. "Just a moment. I grant you Mr. Harris is an invaluable asset to this organization, Esther. However, he's also unpredictable and unreliable at times. He is *not* a team player, so to speak. We don't know how he might react to these allegations..."

The man lit the pipe and puffed on it for a second, as Esther, the balding man and the others at the table waited for him to continue. "After all, we are all aware of his relationship with Ms. LeHane. This opportunity, if presented to him, could very well be too much for him to resist. And Mr. Harris has not shown himself to be the most...levelheaded individual around."

Esther looked at her superior. "But we can't deliberately withhold this information! It's against our policies to hide things from a field op this way-"

The pipe-smoking man interrupted, "He's not a field operative, he's just a consultant. Besides, I'm fully aware of the philosophy of total sharing of information that Colonel Cleburne has presented to this body before. I find it lacking in its appreciation of the big picture. For now, we keep this information to ourselves while trying to learn more."

TBC...


	17. Chapter 17

**Part Seventeen**

**Sunnydale Memorial Hospital, Sunnydale, California. November 17, 2000**

"Uno," Dawn put down her card, and announced that she had only one card left.

Joyce smiled at her youngest daughter. {On any other day, I'd think it's way too early in the morning for this!} Buffy, Willow and Tara just quickly looked through their hands, to see if they had a card to counter Dawn's latest play.

"Dawn honey, are you sure you don't play this game professionally? You're too good to be playing it just for fun," Joyce asked, leaning forward in the hospital bed to brush Dawn's hair from in front of her eyes.

"I had a very good teacher, Mom. Remember, when I beat you years ago? I got Twinkies. And I love Twinkies! So that was great motivation for a ten-year-old," Dawn replied with a big grin.

Buffy just observed the exchange between Dawn and Joyce silently. She knew something was off about Dawn, but she just couldn't believe that the girl she thought to be her baby sister could possibly be harbouring malicious intentions towards their mother.

{I really wish that Giles would just hurry up, and find something to explain what I saw regarding Dawn the other night. That would at least be one less thing to worry about! Well, hopefully, by this time tomorrow I'll be back to just having the normal stuff to be concerned over. Like demons, vampires and end-of-the-world scenarios! }

Willow frowned, as she drew a card from the deck. "Yeah, Mrs. Summers, you've created an UNO hustler if you ask me-"

But Dr. Chalmers sticking his head in through the door of the room headed off further comment from Willow. He was in surgical scrubs and said, "Ah good, you're awake. I wanted to check in on you."

Joyce straightened up. "I'm fine, doctor, and I'm hoping you and the others can make me all better."

Chalmers advanced into the room, and examined the chart at the foot of Joyce's bed. "Don't worry, you're in good hands. Hopefully, we can have your surgery completed by lunchtime..." He glanced up at the Summers women. "So, can you and your charming daughters give me any suggestions as to where to eat lunch?"

Dawn smiled. "Oh, there are a lot of good places to eat lunch! That pizza joint, Fazio's, down the street is a great place to grab a slice or two. And if you don't like pizza, there's a great Mexican restaurant that I-"

Joyce smiled and placed her arm on Dawn's shoulder. "Honey, let's not overload the good doctor with too much information right now, I want him concentrating on something other than the lunch special at Casa Grande for the moment."

Chalmers chuckled at that. "Don't worry, Mrs. Summers. I can handle two things in my head at once." He turned to Dawn and Buffy. "Tell you what, how about you two think about it and tell me when the surgery is done?"

Dawn brightened at that, and even Buffy felt like smiling a little bit. Two orderlies then came into the room.

"Ah, okay, time to go," Chalmers observed.

**A few minutes later**

The door to the operating suite was at the end of the hallway, as the orderlies wheeled Joyce Summers towards it. To her left walked Buffy the Slayer, holding on tightly to Joyce's hand. On the right side, Dawn did likewise.

Following a few feet behind were Willow, Tara and Jonathan. The sort-of male Scooby had arrived a few minutes after the orderlies started preparing Joyce for the surgery.

The sound of hurrying footsteps then drew Buffy's attention down the corridor, from where they had just come. Giles hurried to catch up with them all, "Sorry I'm late!" he apologized.

Joyce smiled wanly. "Don't worry, Rupert. The main attraction is still here."

"Mom," Buffy reproached her mother. "Don't worry."

Joyce pulled up Buffy's hand and kissed it. "Buffy, why should I worry? I've got you and Dawn on my side."

Buffy and Dawn both smiled at that. They arrived at the door to the suite, and one of the orderlies spoke up, "I'm sorry, but you can't come any further beyond this point..."

And with that, Buffy and the others were left behind. The Scoobies just stood there and watched, as Joyce was wheeled in through the doors.

While everyone else's attention was focused on that, Giles leaned over and whispered into Buffy's ear. "Buffy? I have an explanation about the, the Dawn situation. It's strange, but nothing to worry about - I-I-I'll explain in a moment..."

**One hour later**

"All right Giles, spill!" Buffy demanded of her Watcher, as they approached the vending machines. She had been unable to talk to Giles about his news, until now.

Because Dawn had attached herself to her sister like a Siamese twin, as soon as Joyce had been wheeled into the operating suite. Understandable of course, in light of what was going on, but frustrating as hell for Buffy. Giles had the answer to her questions but couldn't tell her, since the subject of their discussion was laying her head in Buffy's lap.

Finally, after an hour the blonde Champion had volunteered to go get some snacks. Dawn had wanted to come along too at first, but Buffy had convinced her to stay behind in case there was any news of their mom. She had then 'volunteered' Giles to come help her.

Rupert took his glasses off, and polished them for a second. {Bloody hell, let's hope this works. } "Well, I've done a stupendous amount of checking, and-and talked to a lot of different sources. There is, uh, reference to a prophecy-"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Oh wow, big surprise. Why is there *always* a prophecy involved?"

"Buffy, please!" Giles gently reproached his charge, at which the blonde fell silent. Giles continued, "Anyway, there is this group of monks called, um, the Order of Dagon. They were tasked with the responsibility of guarding a key - one composed of living energy."

"A key? A key to what, exactly?" Buffy asked, as she put a five-dollar note into the change machine. The Scoobies were hungry, and she would need a lot of change.

"A portal between dimensions. There is a-a-a hellgoddess named Glorificus, you see, that was banished here long ago - and apparently she would use the Key to, to go back home, and take over the hell world of her origin. However, there's a problem with that scenario-" 

"Yeah, 'cause there always is," Buffy commented, as she scooped up the change from the dollar changer. "Hey, do you see any Twinkies in there? Dawn specifically asked for Twinkies."

Giles shook his head. "No. And the problem is that once the Key is used, all the barriers between all the numberless dimensions out there - come down. All the various realities then run together, bleeding and mixing with ours."

"Which is of the bad?"

"Very bad. Hell on Earth, end-of-the-world type bad, I'm afraid."

Buffy thought for a second. "Okay, but how does all this relate to Dawn?"

Giles hesitated. "Well, those monks were fated to decide to alter the energy, put the Key into the form of something...safe, something that its guardian would die to protect."

"So who's this guardian then?" Buffy asked impatiently, as she put quarters into the vending machine.

"You are, according to my source in question."

Buffy slowed down putting the quarters for a second. "Me? But - but what would I die to protect? Dawn's stuff can be replaced, so I don't see why..." Her voice trailed off.

Buffy, although at times having played at appearing slow-witted, was in fact quite intelligent. After all, she had been accepted into Northwestern, which was not exactly a college known for its low academic standards. Her brain quickly made the connection.

"DAWN?!" the Slayer demanded, her voice's volume rising as she did so.

"Shush!" Giles hurried to keep her quiet. "Yes, Dawn. She is the Key, given human form."

Buffy looked stunned. "Oh my God, but - how - wait, does she know about any of this?"

Giles fiercely shook his head. "No. She has no idea, according to my source. However, understand this - she is very much human now. She's your sister. The only difference between her and us is that she was created by magic, using your essence. In every other way - she is a living, breathing human being."

"My essence?"

Rupert took the opportunity to get some food himself. "Yes, the monks have supposedly used a part of you to create her - God only knows how. So she *is* your sister. Never doubt that. She means no harm to anyone - well, apart from maybe Anya, given that time at the Magic Box..."

Buffy gathered up the crackers and candy bars that she had bought. "So, what's the other shoe? You mentioned something about a hellgoddess, right?"

Giles nodded. "Yes, well, here's where things get strange-"

Buffy looked at her Watcher. "Giles, you just told me that my sister is actually some sorta key, composed of mystical energy or something. I think we're well past *strange*!"

Giles swallowed nervously and continued, "Quite true. Well, uh, apparently this Glorificus or Glory, as she is also called, needs Dawn for that ritual to open the portal. However, my source told me that something has happened to Glory...that she is, um, no longer a threat. He described her to me just in case she ever shows up, but he seemed quite certain she had been removed from the playing field, as it were."

Buffy frowned. "This source on the up and up? And who is he, anyway?"

Giles brought out his version of what Willow called the 'Resolve Face'. "I would trust my life on his information. And I'm sorry, but I can't tell you who he is - he asked me not to reveal that information."

The Slayer looked determined herself. "I want to talk to him!"

The Englishman shook his head. "No, Buffy, that's not possible. I have no way of contacting that individual; he sends me the information, whenever he chooses to get in touch with me. Ah, he did tell me that he would get back in contact around March or April..."

Giles motioned to head off the objection from Buffy to the dates mentioned. "Apparently, Glory can only do her ritual at a certain time during May. Before then the Key, or rather Dawn, is in no real danger."

"Then how did you get to ask him about Dawn?"

{Blast, she would ask that. She's brighter than she looks! } "Luck, of all things. You see, he contacted me just last night."

Buffy's eyes narrowed. "You sure he isn't on a set schedule or anything?"

Again, Giles shook his head. "No, about the only notice I have is the approximate month he'll contact me."

"Did you know he would contact you this month?" Buffy finished gathering up the snacks for the Scoobies.

"Yes, he checked in with me last July. He told me then, he would contact me again sometime in November. But what with everything that's happened lately, it had quite slipped my mind..."

Buffy started to lead Giles back to the waiting Scoobies. "This still sounds a bit too good to be true, my opinion. Just *how* did he know what information you needed?"

Giles shrugged. "All I can say is, he tells me what he thinks I need to know. He's quite gifted at knowing what might come in handy."

Buffy looked annoyed. "Giles, this is *Dawn* we're talking about! I can't just-"

Giles interrupted the Slayer. "Buffy, you're simply going to have to trust me on this. If it makes you feel any better, I *can* promise you that my informant would never knowingly give us false information. I would stake my life *and* my soul on that."

Buffy thought for a second. "All right, Watcher mine, *you* I trust. So if you vouch for him, I'll go along with it - for now. 'Course, I also think we need to keep all this strictly to ourselves - so we need to spin some sorta yarn to feed to Anya, about what I saw the other night..."

**Three hours later**

Buffy stretched out as best she could, careful not to disturb the sleeping Dawn - who was leaning up against her. She glanced up at the clock on the wall, and the clock face showed it was a quarter past eleven. Joyce Summers had been in surgery for almost three hours now.

That worried Buffy greatly. She felt the tension building up in her, like it had been for the last three hours.

"Buffy?"

She turned in response to the whisper, and saw that Jonathan had moved to the seat next to her. "Not now, Jonathan!" the Slayer hissed.

By this point in her life, Buffy had gotten to the stage where she could tolerate the presence of the long-time acquaintance of Willow Rosenberg - despite the Super-Jonathan stunt he'd pulled ages ago. Of course, with all that was going on this morning, she really didn't want to test the limits of this newfound tolerance...

"I just thought you might want to know, I did an Internet search."

"Again, Jonathan, not really in the mood!"

"Yeah, but I checked out the surgeons operating on your mother."

Now *that* got Buffy's attention. She shifted to lean closer to the male Scooby, "Spill it," she demanded.

"Right, uh, Dr. Isaacs seems to be all right. Some bumps in his record, but nothing out of the ordinary."

Buffy paled a little bit at that. "Bumps in his record?"

Jonathan quickly reassured the Chosen One, "Nothing to worry about, it's just the fact that he practices in Sunnydale and *still* doesn't seem to have caught onto the night life around here..."

Buffy sighed. "Okay, then. I suppose I should have expected that, what with Mom having the surgery here instead of in Los Angeles or somewhere else."

Jonathan leaned over and patted Buffy on the shoulder. "Dr. Chalmers is a more interesting read, though."

Buffy felt her concern go back up. "What do you mean?"

"He's in the U.S. Navy - and he's on the staff at the naval hospital in Bethesda, Maryland. Highly respected. Your mother is really very lucky to have him here."

Buffy looked at Jonathan with a questioning look. "Like I said before, what do you mean?"

"Buffy, he's one of the top surgeons in the Navy!" Jonathan paused for a second. "Do you know what one of the duties of the Bethesda Navy Hospital is? They're the doctors for the U.S. President. Chalmers is one of their top surgeons; he's literally one of the people they call when the President gets ill. *That's* who is helping operate on your mother!"

Buffy felt a sense of immense relief and joy. {If he's someone the White House trusts with the President, Mom is getting the best there is!} Some of the worry that had built up in her disappeared. "Wow. Well, thanks for the 411, Jonathan."

He nodded. "Don't mention it, just doing what I can to help out..."

It was a sad fact that ever since Willow had gotten more and more into magic and Wicca, she had been letting her hacking and Internet skills decline - just as she had in that other world. Jonathan, on the other hand, even though he also was studying magic was still trying to keep his computer skills up to par.

He was hoping to major in Computer Science at UC Sunnydale, after all; because the former nerd wanted something to fall back on, if anything went wrong with the magic thing currently going on in his life.

Right about then, the doors to the operating suite swung open and in walked the two surgeons just being talked about. All of the Scoobies roused themselves and faced the doctors, as they walked up. Buffy and Dawn moved to the front of the group.

Dr. Isaacs spoke first. "I'm happy to tell you that we got the tumor out successfully. Everything went even better than expected, and it looks like your mother is going to be fine."

All of the Scoobies released the breath they had been holding, as Buffy and Dawn hugged each other. Buffy didn't care about what she had just learned about her sister; all she knew was that their mother was going to be all right, and it was like a huge burden had fallen from her shoulders.

"Can we see her?" Buffy asked in a quiet voice.

Chalmers answered her, "Not at the moment. She's still sedated right now, and we're moving her to recovery. Give it a few minutes; let us get her settled, then we'll see about letting some of you in there."

After a few more pleasantries, the two surgeons excused themselves. Buffy spoke up as Chalmers turned to leave, Dr. Isaacs already halfway down the hall to get ready for the next surgery. "Dr. Chalmers?"

He turned to the elder Summers daughter. "Yes, Ms. Summers?"

"Thank you."

He smiled at her. "You're welcome, but it's what I do. So don't mention it." The neurosurgeon then started after Dr. Isaacs.

{Hmm, I can't help wondering just who she is, though - and why is her family so important? Because a *lot* of favours were called in, for me to come all the way across the country - just for this one humdrum operation!}

Shrugging, the doctor's thoughts then turned to lunch. Maybe that Casa Grande place mentioned by the Summers girls would do just fine.

**Hyperion Hotel, Los Angeles, California. Later that afternoon**

Charles Gunn walked into the headquarters of Angel Investigations; sad to say, but it was a Friday and he had nothing else to do. "Yo, white folks, anybody home?"

Cordelia Chase came out of the inner office of the abandoned hotel lobby. "Gunn, anybody ever tell you how non-PC that sounds when you say it?" she demanded with an annoyed expression.

Gunn shrugged. "I dunno. Where's English and the broody King of Pain?"

Cordy's annoyed look didn't change in the slightest. "*Wesley* is out on a date with Virginia Bryce..."

Gunn grinned at that; recently he had taken part in rescuing that wizard's daughter from a ritual sacrifice. And he had later laughed his ass off, at all the references to Angel being a eunuch - when he had told the tale to the rest of the Lost Boys, who'd had a huge giggle about it as well.

"And Angel's out on the town, of course, doing his big hero act. I swear, Mr. I-Was-Alive-For-200-Years-And-Never-Developed-An-Investment-Portfolio had better find some paying customers soon - or this detective agency is gonna go completely belly-up on our asses!"

The gang leader shrugged. "He's still completely focused on you-know-who?"

Cordy sighed. "You better believe it. I don't understand, didn't he learn his lesson with Buffy about this sort of thing? He can't afford to get involved with Darla - or any other woman, for that matter!"

Gunn looked at her in amazement. "You really don't know much about guys, do ya? Like my old buddy Bobby used to say, 'Que verdad es que dos tetas tiran más que dos carretas'..."

Cordelia instantly slapped him on the face. "I have a half-sister who's part-Spanish - you think I don't know some of the language!? Wait - what *exactly* does that mean, anyway?"

Charles had the decency to look somewhat ashamed; he hadn't expected the former princess to get any of that. "Uh, loosely translated, 'how true it is that two tits pull harder than two horses'. Y'know, it's a guy thing..."

The front doors opened up, and a woman walked into the lobby. Cordelia, having had heard the jingle from the doorway, just glared one last time at Gunn and turned to give her full attention to the new arrival.

"Welcome to Angel Investigations, we help-" Cordy's chipper voice faded, as she saw who it was. "Oh, it's you. What do you want?"

Darla hesitantly folded her arms across her chest. She looked all around her, "Is Angelus here? I need to talk to him," she asked in a tiny voice.

Even after their harsh words tonight after he'd stopped her from getting a *truly* moronic vampire to sire her in an abandoned bank, the woman dying of syphilis needed to talk to *someone* - given how Wolfram & Hart were no longer supporting her.

Cordy placed her arms on her hips, and adopted an icy attitude towards Angel's sire. "Angelus? There is no Angelus here, thank God. If you came looking for Angelus, lady, you can just turn right around right now and march back to your Wolfram & Hart puppetmasters!"

Darla actually seemed to shrink into herself at Cordelia's words. "Please...I need to see him."

Gunn positioned himself between Cordelia and Darla. "Why, haven't you done enough already?"

Darla looked around, looking more pathetic than the Master vampire she had used to be. "I...I need to talk to him. He's the only one who can understand. He's been through what I'm going through. He can, he'll know. I need - I need..."

Cordy wasn't letting up on the attitude towards the new arrival. "Come on, after all the tricks you've played on him? Visiting him in his bedroom night after night, trying to make him lose his soul, trying to seduce him again after you finally showed your skanky ass in public? This is just another ploy!"

Gunn raised an eyebrow, at Cordy's use of the word 'ploy'. Wesley obviously had been rubbing off on her. The seer continued, "I don't know about you, but I've never seen *Angel* trash his own apartment and break all the windows..."

"That's 'cause I don't have to look at my own reflection."

The three in the lobby turned to see Angel had come up from the tunnels in the basement. The ensouled vampire looked haggard and tired. Clearly, Darla was not the only one going through an emotional wringer at the moment.

"Guys, could you give us a few moments?" the Champion then asked Cordy and Gunn.

"That isn't a good idea, Angel, after all-" Cordy started to say, before being interrupted by a Look from her employer - who did that classic trick with his forehead.

Gunn moved over and took her by the arm. "We'll be in the office if you need us," he said, over the protests of the Fang Gang's resident seer.

Angel watched them exit, and turned to look at his female companion. "Darla," he said simply. "Before we get into anything else - however you wanna paint it, that *was* pretty stupid what you tried to do earlier, with the vamp back at the bank. After what it took to get you away from Wolfram & Hart...they were about to kill you! Do you really have a death wish like that?"

"Angelus," she whispered. "How do you do it?"

He looked at her with puzzlement. "Do what?"

Darla walked over and sat down on the couch in the lobby before continuing, "*This*! Living with it. Your *soul*," she said with a special emphasis. "How can you exist with that *thing* inside you?"

{First Willow, now Darla. When did I become a therapist? } the Irish-born vamp thought to himself in despair. "It's hard-"

Darla continued on, interrupting him. "Hard? It's like a..." She struggled for the words. And Angel was shocked to hear the next words out of her mouth, "...tumor, eating away at me. I can feel it. I can feel this body decaying. Every moment, I can feel it dying just a little bit more."

Angel took a step towards Darla. "Dying? But you're alive-"

Darla spat out her next words, "Alive? Alive? We both know what life brings you. Pain, suffering, disease, DEATH!" she almost shouted out the last word. "Living only leads up to the inevitable end. What comes after that? I can't remember. *Why* can't I remember? Is there no Hell?"

Angel shook his head. "There's a Hell, several in fact. A friend of mine spent years in one of them..."

Darla wasn't reassured. "I can't go on like this. Only you can help me."

Angel leaned over, and sat down next to the woman. "Last time, when I had to go through what you're going through, I didn't have anyone there for me."

Darla looked at him. "China was a long time ago, and we've both changed since then. Angelus - Angel - you're the only one who can do what needs to be done." She leaned forward, towards her former lover. "You'll do it too, I don't doubt it."

Angel leaned forward also, touching her shoulders and trying to be comforting. "Don't worry, you'll get through this-"

"Make it quick."

Angel was confused by Darla's statement. "What?"

The former whore brushed back her hair, showing her neck to Angel. She then leaned her head to one side and whispered, "Make me what I was before. Return me to what I'm supposed to be!"

Angel was suddenly gripped by indecision, not having seen this coming - even though he damn well should have, knowing Darla as intimately as he did.

From Xander's message, the Champion for the Powers knew that the blonde woman would become a vampire again at some point, but still - he didn't know exactly how that had happened, or even who had sired her. {Damn it, Xander, couldn't you have given me *some* sort of hint in that letter you left with the Furies? }

Darla got tired of waiting, and pressed her neck to his lips. She whispered in his ear, "Come on, my love. Hurry up - please!"

Angel was horribly, grievously torn. He could smell the hot, tempting blood just beneath the surface of her skin, and could hear the beating of her heart as it started racing in anticipation. He then fought to keep his human face intact, as the inner demon tugged at its chains and Angel tried to decide what to do.

The first thought in his mind was, {What is it with blondes tempting me like this? First Buffy, and now Darla. Cordelia was right, I *do* have a thing for them! God help me if *she* ever dyes her hair blonde.} That thought quickly disappeared though, as more morose concerns arose.

{If I do this - can I live with the consequences? I've never sired anyone with my soul intact - well, apart from that guy Sam Lawson back in 1943, of course. Special case, anyway, it's not like I had any real choice over that. But this is *Darla* we're talking about! If I do this, everything Xander warned me about will happen.}

Which included the birth of Connor, their son, and him losing Darla before the March of 2003.

Angel pushed her away, making his decision. "I can't."

The silence lasted for several seconds. Darla leaned back and looked Angel in the face in disbelief, "What?"

"I won't turn you into a soulless monster," he said simply. And Angel did his best to just ignore the sneering inner voice in his head, that said Willow had the ensouling spell in reserve. {That's the easy way out. I can't kill her just so I can turn her, and hope that Willow's spell works! }

"But how can you leave me like this?! You know what I'm going through. You're suffering it yourself. How can you force me to go through all that *pain*?!" Darla looked with pleading eyes at her childe.

Angel told her, "You're human, and you have your soul. Do you have any idea what I would give, to have what you have?"

She gripped the male vamp by the collars of his jacket. "Why? Why lower yourself to that level? We're..." A look of sadness flittered across her face. "We *were* better than that. We were beyond human concerns. We were masters of our fate. The humans were beneath us. Nothing more than cattle!"

"Darla, we were wrong to think like that," Angel said passionately, making no effort to get away. "True, we were nothing more than soulless monsters then. Preying on those weaker than us-"

"We were almost gods, you fool!" Darla snapped.

"No we weren't. We were no better than vultures, skulking in the shadows, afraid of the daylight and scurrying out to feed on bits and pieces off the street. You could argue that we were free, but that's only as far as any vampire can be - dependent on the exploitability of others, and you can't tell me otherwise..."

Darla wasn't convinced. "The humans were there for our pleasure, *and* consumption. Survival of the fittest, remember?"

Angel looked at the blonde sadly. "In that case, why did we hide from them? Why didn't vampires take over the world openly, long ago?" he asked in a low tone.

Darla had no answer for that one, leaning back in her chair as her former lover continued. "We talked a good game, Darla, but when all was said and done, what did we ever do? We fed and we slept and we fornicated, at every available opportunity. That was it, for 150 years. The Master at least had all those grand plans to bring about the end of the world, but us? We were no better than animals." He looked Darla straight in the eye. "Do you really want to go back to that?"

"There's no other choice. I'm dying," she whispered.

"Of course you are. Everything eventually does." Darla looked skeptically at Angel. "Sweetheart, nothing lasts forever. Do you really think even a vampire can exist for that long, unchanged? We've both heard of vampires changing, the older they get. Remember the name Kakistos? He was a legend with cloven hooves that Spike and Dru met once, and I had the dubious pleasure of watching two Slayers dust him in Sunnydale-"

"You don't understand!" She jumped up. "I'm dying right now! The syphilis I had back in 1609 Virginia, it's killing me. The doctors...they've all said I'm too far gone to help. I'll be dead soon, if I don't do something about it!" She started towards the door.

Angel grabbed her. "Wait, we can do something-"

The blonde turned on Angel. "NO! Leave me alone. You decided not to help me the way I needed, fine. Don't look for me, I'll just...I'll go somewhere else for what I need!" She flung the doors open, letting the sunlight in, and started out.

"No, damn it Darla-!" Angel saw someone he knew would most likely become the mother of his child about to go out, and do something stupid. And he wasn't going to allow that. So the Champion stepped forward, and grabbed her arm again at the door.

Then the vampire with a soul felt the burning heat and saw the sunlight sizzling on his arm, as he pulled upon his maker. Cursing, he held onto Darla with vamp strength; but she struggled, screaming to be let go.

The noise brought both Cordy and Gunn out of the office. "Angel!" Cordelia shouted, as she could see the smoke rising from Angel's arm. They rushed up to where he was, as the former Scourge of Europe roughly pulled Darla away from the doorway.

Darla's eyes grew wide, as she saw Angel's arm. "Angelus, what have you done?" she asked softly in amazement.

"I'm *not* letting you throw away the gift you've been given like that. We'll find a way to fix this." {Damn right we will! Xander changed the future back in Sunnydale, before we both left the Hellmouth. So if he can do it, I can too! There's gotta be a way to save her life, without Darla having to become a vampire.}

**An hour later**

Angel walked down the stairs, back towards the lobby. Cordy stood at the foot of the stairs, with her hands on her hips and an angry look on her face. Before she could start in on Angel - Wesley, who had come back from his date when called in by the gang, stepped forward.

"How is she?" the Englishman asked diplomatically.

Angel got to the bottom of the stairs. "Sleeping, for now. I set her up in one of the rooms near mine. I imagine she'll sleep through the night; Darla was exhausted, she's been through the wringer what with everything she's learned-"

Cordy stepped around Wesley, to come face-to-face with Angel. "All right, Broody Boy, time to face the music. Just what the *hell* were you thinking? Because sunlight and you, pal, don't mix. A sunburn on you equals vampire dust! You could have been nothing but ashes right now, if she'd pulled a bit harder!"

Angel shook his head. "I know, but I wasn't going to let her go back out there alone. God knows what would have happened..."

"What would have happened? We would have gone after her, dummy! Remember, Gunn and I were right there in the next room? You had no business putting yourself in harm's way like that!"

"I'm afraid Cordelia's right, Angel. You endangered yourself unnecessarily," Wesley added with an uncomfortable look on his face.

"You don't understand, she's my responsibility. I just can't let her throw away her chance to-"

"Oh my God, Angel..." Cordy started to say, with a patented 'Queen C' glare on her features.

Angel turned back to face the group's seer. "Look Cordy, I know you don't like her. But she has no one else, literally, who can comprehend what she's going through. And I am *not* going to just abandon her, at the time when she needs me the most. End of discussion. Deal with it..." He then turned away, as Wesley started to get his orders about what reading materials were urgently needed.

But his previous words had gotten Cordy to shut up, as memories of past events swirled around in her brain; a black-haired boy that had been her first true love lying on the nighttime street, appearing in her mind's eye.

**Georgetown, Washington D.C. November 19, 2000**

"Mom! Phone!"

Esther glanced up from the book she was reading, at the shout of her teenage daughter from downstairs. She mentally sighed.

{She couldn't walk up here to tell me, she had to shout it out from the bottom of the stairwell? Oh well, I suppose I should be thankful it wasn't Mark who answered the phone. He wouldn't even have bothered coming to the foot of the stairs! } she thought to herself grumpily, Mark being her eldest - who had started college at Howard University this autumn.

Esther put down her book, and stood up from the easy chair she had spent most of this Sunday afternoon relaxing. Work had been more stressful than normal, ever since the Committee had made their decision concerning what was coming out of Wolfram & Hart.

{Oh well, I need to remember these are the same people who came up with the idea of the Initiative. From what we've been able to figure out from the hints Xander Harris gave us, that would've have turned out to be an incredibly bad idea if it hadn't been short-circuited by him.}

She picked up phone. "Esther Marcum."

"Mrs. Marcum, this is Monsignor Bentallo. I hope I have not disturbed you too much."

"Not at all, I was just doing some light reading," Esther replied. "And I hope you don't mind me asking, but how did you get my home phone number?"

A soft chuckle was the response. "As you said earlier, the Church has always been able to get information that others could not. The mission here in Washington long ago assembled methods of contacting certain individuals in your government, on short notice."

That worried Esther. "You needed to get in contact with me on short notice?"

Bentallo quickly moved to reassure her, "Nothing immediately threatening. But I've just returned from Rome, and there is some information that I need to discuss with you as soon as possible. It concerns your young...guest."

"How soon can you meet with me?"

**U.S. Naval Academy Training Gym, Annapolis, Maryland. November 20, 2000**

Two men were almost dancing around the gymnasium floor.

Joshua Cleburne and Xander Harris were engaged in a martial arts training session. The Jeet Kune Do techniques were being used, as Xander snapped a kick towards Cleburne's head - that on almost any other man would have connected, and knocked his teeth out.

"Watch your right shoulder - you're telegraphing your moves when you lean back like that, kid! Every time you do that, I get an opening to do something like this..." Cleburne's fist shot by Xander's left ear, in an incredibly rushed blur.

Xander idly wondered for a second, whether or not Cleburne had missed on purpose.

However, that thought didn't interfere with Xander dropping down and trying a sweep kick against his trainer. At the last moment Cleburne rolled to his right, just ahead of Xander's right leg. "Getting better kid, getting better, maybe before too long, you'll be able to mug a little old lady successfully."

"That would be tougher than fighting you," Xander taunted his opponent.

Cleburne just smiled and threw a punch, one that Xander easily blocked. However, Cleburne used the opportunity to launch a kick that almost hit Xander on the stomach...almost. Xander leaned back and blocked Cleburne's leg. Then the former Zeppo quickly pushed Cleburne off-balance, and the senior agent tumbled backwards.

Xander quickly moved forward to press his advantage, however Cleburne wasn't that easily bested. He continued rolling backward, until he was out of the immediate reach of his opponent. He then jumped up to his feet, as Xander attacked him with a leaping kick that landed on the agent's chest.

The Siberian fell backwards, and rolled on the mat. "Damn, kid, you eat your wheaties this morning or what?"

"Language please, Joshua."

Both Cleburne and Xander looked at the source of the reproach given to the Siberian. At the doorway into the gym stood Esther Marcum, Irving Hollins and Monsignor Bentallo. Xander noted that behind them were the normal bodyguards that accompanied the child genius on his jaunts into the real world.

He also noticed that several of them were hiding grins. {They've probably been through the Mother Hen training method. They must like seeing someone knock *him* on his ass, for a change. }

Cleburne was clearly thinking the same thing, as he started scowling as he got back to his feet. His scowl quickly vanished though, as he faced the black woman he'd worked with for years. "Esther, surprised to see you here. Didn't think you would drop in on us today! You know, I can probably get all of you tickets to the Army-Navy game if you want. That's coming up in a couple of weeks..."

Esther shook her head. "No, I'm more of an NFL fan than college football. Besides, I've never understood the fervor of the rivalry between the Army and Navy academies."

Cleburne looked at Esther. "Come on, Army versus Navy? It's the rivalry to end all rivalries! War Admiral-Seabiscuit, Duke-North Carolina, Red Sox-Yankees? Those rivalries are *nothing*, compared to the cadets and midshipmen going at it!"

He led Xander over to where the towels and water had been set aside. Mother Hen picked up a bottle of water and tossed it to Xander, who caught it effortlessly as Cleburne turned to face the new arrivals. "Anyway, I doubt you brought your two companions here to talk football. The Wizard there is a fan of more cerebral pursuits, and I suspect the good Father is a fan of Notre Dame."

"Monsignor," Bentallo corrected Cleburne.

Esther raised her hand. "Let's hold off on the introductions for a second. I'm sorry for the interruption-"

"Don't be," Xander interrupted her. "Mother Hen here was determined to turn me into Jackie Chan."

"Bruce Lee."

"What?" Xander looked at Cleburne.

"Jeet Kune Do was developed by Bruce Lee, so you should be trying to become like him."

"Anyway," Esther said sharply. "We need to talk in private, about something that Monsignor Bentallo has discovered."

**Ten minutes later**

The Siberians and their guest had found an unused classroom, and gathered within it. Monsignor Bentallo had been introduced all around and was talking, "When we agreed to assist your organization, one of the things we received was transcripts of your debriefings, Mr. Harris. I've been reading them, and trying to learn what I can."

Xander looked at Cleburne. "Copies of my debriefings, why not live performances?"

"You probably would have run off with his lovely assistant. Would have had a bitch of a time dragging you back," Cleburne smirked.

"Focus, please," Esther said, her annoyance surfacing. "And when did you two become characters in a buddy-cop movie?"

Both Cleburne and Xander looked properly chastised as Bentallo continued, "Mr. Harris, something in your transcripts stuck out to me. You made reference to trying to learn everything you could related to apocalypses, during your time in high school..."

Xander nodded. "Yeah, that was back when I was in love with Bu-" Xander managed to catch himself, before he said Buffy's name. She was still a sore subject, as far as his psyche was concerned.

The guy continued on though, "And, uh, I was also kinda unsure of my role in the...group." He wondered now if that had been time truly wasted, considering how things had turned out.

"You mentioned going so far as reading the Bible, and various chapters of the Book of Revelations - especially the one about the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse?"

"Right. And?"

"Mr. Harris - just how many chapters of the Book of Revelations did you read, in total?" the holy man asked.

Xander shrugged. "All 22 of them, actually." Then he noticed his three companions staring at each other. "What?"

"My son, in the Bible today - there are *23* chapters in the Book of Revelations," Bentallo said simply.

"What?" Xander said in amazement.

Hollins spoke up this time. "It appears that for whatever reason, one of the changes from the history you knew...is that there is now an extra chapter, in that part of the New Testament. There have been rumors that the Revelations of St. John was written by a seer...anyway, we obviously never caught it last year, because I basically assumed that there had always been 23 chapters in both worlds, my apologies for the oversight."

Xander swallowed. "I'm taking it that this is not a good thing?"

Bentallo looked concerned, as he continued. "I reviewed the oldest copies we have of the Book of Revelations in the Vatican library. I even obtained the copies in the original Aramaic because, you see, I'm able to read that language. I read one particular chapter very carefully, in light of the new conditions caused by your presence. And I came to the conclusion that..."

Xander felt his heart rate increase. "What, what did you conclude?"

Bentallo looked straight at Xander. "I believe that much of that chapter refers directly to you."

The Monsignor took out his notes and began to read from them, as Harris gaped liked a fish. "Revelations, 14:1. _And then, a great portent appeared upon the face of the earth. A..._" he paused. "Well, the original Aramaic roughly translates to a 'poisoner of wells'. But personally, I suspect that's a little misleading - another word for it could be-"

"Witch," Hollins interjected, his 12-year-old voice brimming with certainty. "If memory serves, during the 7th decade AD when the Bible was written...that is what the Jews belonging to the then-new Christian sect were labeled as, as a matter of fact."

The holy man nodded. "Anyway, to continue. _"A...witch with three heads stood before the graven image of the beast, as she paid homage before it. One of her heads had hair black like a raven's wing, and her eyes were the color of night, and an expression of great rage was upon her face. The second head contained hair liken unto a flame of fire, with eyes the color of jade, and a great sadness was etched upon her features. The third head had hair that was as white as snow, white as wool, with eyes like ebony, and an expression of rapture..._"

The Monsignor paused to catch his breath. "I have to say, it's quite descriptive."

Esther frowned. "Monsignor, this *is* the most accurate translation of the text, right?"

He shrugged. "Well, it's the best our experts and I could come up with. Now, where was I...ah, yes, here we are. "_And I watched as the witch performed impressive miracles; the black-haired head facing me, great power sprang forth as she raised her arms and began to feed the statue with the life of the earth. And then another great portent appeared; a man, robed as a warrior of the Host with his left eye missing, came forth commanding the witch to cease her blasphemies against God and His angels. And after he did so, the head with red hair did replace the previous one facing me, as the witch repented of her evil ways; and then the earth and sea, and all those who dwelled upon them rejoiced, having been granted another season. Thus I fell down as if to worship him, but the warrior said unto me, "You must not do that! For I am merely a fellow servant of yours, although I travel with the..._"

There was another pause, as the Monsignor frowned. "This next word is the one that originally raised the alarm bells for me, Mr. Harris. It's tricky to understand; literally translated, it means 'divine executioner', but it could also mean-"

"Slayer," Xander said in a flat, emotionless voice, as everyone stared at him again. "That's what it was *supposed* to mean, anyway - when whoever wrote this stuff way back when, was putting pen to paper. Or whatever they actually did, in those days. This is all hitting way too close to home, for it to be anything else..."

"I see. So, you understand all this - it's all familiar to you, then?" the special agent of the Vatican looked at Xander with undisguised fascination. Cleburne, Marcum and Hollins stared at him too.

Xander nodded his head, troubled by both the memories that day on Kingman's Bluff - and the fact that someone had foreseen it all, so long ago. "You could say that. What else is there?"

The Monsignor then read through the rest of the chapter. It was written in the same vague, graphically descriptive style as before - but to someone like Harris, who alone of those present had the background knowledge to understand the context, the meaning was chillingly clear enough.

The appearance of Caleb, who the author described as the "savage prophet of the ancient enemy", was described in due course, then the destruction of the Council, and the slaughter of nearly all the potential Slayers in the world. Then the discovery of the mystical scythe created by the Guardians, and Buffy's grand plan to create a Slayer army was described.

Bentallo then came to the end. "Ah yes, this part I found most interesting. "_And I watched as the city built by the old serpent, which was liken unto Sodom and Gomorrah, was pulled underneath the earth into the lake of fire and sulphur, where the beast and the savage prophet also were. But then, I beheld one last miraculous portent; a holy chariot, carrying the few remaining righteous of the city, emerged from the hole in the earth. And the man robed as the servant warrior of Heaven stood before me, as his left eye miraculously reappeared and he said, "Write what you have seen, what has been and is now and may occur hereafter. For that ancient enemy which is and was and always will be comes to you in a great fury, knowing that it hath but a short season remaining to slay me - and my oldest companion._"

Bentallo sighed. "And then the next chapter of the Book of Revelations goes off in a completely new direction, I'm afraid..."

Cleburne shrugged, not making the connection to Dark Willow - although he should have. "Well, not to be blunt, but this doesn't sound like anything I haven't already heard before at Sunday school, when I was growing up. Kid, any of this *really* mean anything to you?"

Xander said nothing, ignoring him. {Oldest companion? That's gotta mean Willow. The First wanted us both dead, before it got scrunched that day in the future?}

"Kid?"

But still, Xander Harris - someone who in this world, people had been unknowingly reading about for nearly 2,000 years - said nothing, lost in his own turbulent thoughts as he tried to understand what those last few words of warning *really* meant.

"Harris?" Cleburne said with mounting urgency. That got Xander's attention.

"Yeah," he started slowly. "It means quite a bit. The bad guy is still out gunning for me, and..." Xander turned and looked at Cleburne. "Lemke is going to need help."

Hollins spoke up, as he was not a super-genius for nothing - even if he didn't have Xander's foreknowledge. "The witch with three heads refers to Willow Rosenberg, I take it? The raven-haired avatar matches the description Lemke gave us of the woman in question, when she was...well, whatever she was, back in September. Remember when you recommended a NBC response, to the situation in Sunnydale? And the second head matches her general description now. The third one is, however, unfamiliar to me." The child genius looked at Xander.

"That hasn't happened yet," Harris said simply.

"Care to share?" Cleburne asked.

Xander shook his head. "Not yet, well - not the details. But basically, this description in the Bible matches the events of 2002 and 2003, leading up to the destruction of Sunnydale. The entire town was swallowed up in the final battle during an earthquake, you see."

Cleburne looked concerned. "We have to contact Lemke. His wife is there. And she did *not* sign up, for her and her child to be sucked into the ground like that! And the rest of the civilians-"

Xander held up his hand. "Don't worry. The town had more-or-less spontaneously evacuated itself, right before the end." That calmed the secret agent down. "The last few lines are what disturb me. "_For that ancient enemy which is and was and always will be comes to you in a great fury, knowing that it hath but a short season remaining to slay me - and my oldest companion,_" he quoted with a brooding expression.

"The guy in the robes, well me, is sayin' that the enemy, which has to be the First Evil, is trying to slay him, well - me again." Xander reached up and rubbed his forehead. {This is giving me a headache, and it didn't even need any conflicting memories to do it?}

Hollins nodded. "I agree; we already know the First has made certain moves against you. There was its appearance in Georgia for example, when the Watchers kidnapped you. So it views you as a threat, and will move against you..."

"_My oldest companion,_" Esther said. "What does that part mean?"

"Willow," Xander whispered. {The First wants her dead. Oh, man.}

Hollins was deep in thought. "Ms. Rosenberg. The First will be targeting her. Why?"

The former slave then snorted. "Oh, she played a *big* role in the final battle. The First must blame her for its defeat. Kill her this time around before then, and it wins by default..."

Bentallo looked at Xander. "You also, it looks to me that the First blames you for its defeat as well?"

Xander shook his head. "Don't know why. I didn't really do anything..."

"The heart." The group looked at Cleburne as he continued, "Every team, squad or pack has a center to it, a heart if you like. Someone who holds everybody together, by just being there. Prevents the team from losing it, when things start falling apart. I remember Colonel Hotchkins telling me the story of his squad in Vietnam going to pieces, after this 22-year-old kid he had under his wing bought it. He'd acted as the soul of the unit - and without him, they couldn't really function. You must have played that role, in the old history."

Xander pondered it for a second. {Well, I *was* the heart in that enjoining spell we did during that first year of college...and Buffy did say that night I was the only reason she'd made it that far.} "Yeah, could be, but there's no way I'm playing that role *now* - is there?"

Esther spoke up this time. "True enough, but the First would still consider you enough of a potential threat that it'll keep trying to take you out."

"And the same for Willow, we need to get her more protection," Xander stated, not thinking about the past - for now.

"We can do that. I've been thinking the Sunnydale PD needs some new people in it, anyway," Joshua nodded to himself.

Hollins turned to Bentallo. "We'll have to examine *all* the prophecies out there that we can access, to see if there is anything else about Mr. Harris and his compatriots-"

Cleburne groaned, as he glanced at Esther and Hollins. "Yeah, I know what *that* means, you're going to want me to talk to the fundamentalists out there. Mind you, some of them are nice to talk to, but after 15 minutes the conversation gets really weird."

Bentallo got their attention. "Actually, we're already in the process of doing just that. I've even gone so far as to make a request to His Holiness to review the Third Fatima Prophecy. And we've already found one prophecy, that seems to apply to Mr. Harris here."

Xander rolled his eyes. "Oh joy, what else does destiny have to throw my way?"

Bentallo hurried to explain. "Well, it's from a monk who was a seer in tenth century France. He writes of a hidden cup being found by a warrior who is, ah, trapped or displaced or lost out of time. He even placed a time frame for it all to happen; the last few months of the second millennium."

"A cup?" Cleburne asked.

"From the context of the writings and the doctrine of the time...this cup almost certainly refers to the vessel used by Christ, during the Last Supper, the Holy Grail."

Xander looked up, some of the old Zeppo personality poking through. "Hey, does that mean I get to go on a Monty Python quest? And I saw the other movie too, ya know. My opinion, Harrison Ford shoulda retired after the first '_Raiders_' flick, and Sean Connery should've stuck to saying, '_Remember, Highlander, there can be only one!_'"

Cleburne groaned at Xander's commentary. "You know what *really* disturbs me about all this? I'm kicking the ass of someone actually mentioned in the Bible. That's just freaky!"

Xander glanced at Cleburne. "What training session were you at? I knocked you flat on your ass, just a few minutes ago!"

Cleburne rolled his eyes. "Kid, the session isn't over yet by a long shot, we're just on a break right now."

**Sunnydale Memorial Hospital, Sunnydale, California. Later that day**

Buffy walked down the hallway from her mother's room, happy that her mother seemed to be doing well. The doctors and nurses had all made comments about how well her recovery seemed to be going.

Buffy was certainly hoping that everything would turn out okay, but in any case the gallery seemed to be going along all right in Joyce's absence. She was now looking for Dr. Isaacs or Dr. Chalmers, to see if they had any idea as to when Joyce could go home.

Buffy spotted them up ahead in the corridor, talking to some middle-aged man in a suit. Her sensitive Slayer hearing instantly kicked in and she could hear what they were saying to one another, long before a normal person should have been able to.

"I'm telling you, in my professional opinion, that it is a bad idea to send Mrs. Summers home so soon after surgery!" That was Dr. Chalmers.

Buffy quickly ducked around a corner so that they couldn't see her, but she could still hear them.

"Well, doctor, I think you're being a little too conservative in your diagnosis." This was a voice that Buffy didn't recognize, and she correctly guessed it belonged to the man in the suit. A man who had, in fact, been installed into his position here during the time when Mayor Wilkins had been in office. "After all, all the tests and post-op examinations show no complications-"

"Spare me the sanctimonious speech, you quack! Admit it - you just want to open that bed up for other patients, don't you? Personally, I think it's disgraceful to let medical decisions be determined by insurance company policies. Mrs. Summers did just have brain surgery, after all!" That was Chalmers again.

"Dr. Chalmers," said the hospital bureaucrat in an officious voice. "May I remind you that you are *not* a member of the staff, at *my* hospital? We do not run things here in Sunnydale the way you do back east; we have neither the budget, nor the personnel. We appreciate your help, but we are quite capable of handling things ourselves from this point on. Dr. Isaacs, start making the arrangements to discharge Mrs. Summers tomorrow."

Buffy then heard them walking away. She started out from around the corner, when the blonde realized too late that Dr. Chalmers was still standing in the hallway.

She ducked back into her hiding place as the Navy commander took out a cell phone, and started punching buttons. After a few seconds, he started talking.

"Hey, roomie. It's me, Bert. Yeah, I'm good. Oh, I swear - it's too warm here for November! How are you doing?"

There was silence for a few seconds.

"Ouch, that bad? And how old was this kid? Twenty-four?! Josh, I hate to tell you this - but we're obviously not as young anymore as we used to be, back at the Academy. Listen, I've hit a complication on the Summers surgery case out here..." He listened for a few seconds.

"No, nothing like that; HMOs, and all that mess. The hospital here is getting buffaloed by the insurance company to discharge my patient too early. Officially it's because her recovery is coming along better than expected, but the real reason is that the insurance company doesn't want to pay for an extended recovery period."

Silence again for a few seconds, as Buffy steamed. Maybe she should go and talk to that hospital administrator. Explain the situation to him, "angry Slayer to whimpering bureaucrat" style. But then Chalmers started talking again...

"Well, I'd say another week or two - at least. After all, this is brain surgery we're talking about - not setting a broken wrist! I'd feel a lot more comfortable keeping her under observation for at least that long, before discharging the woman. Is there anything you can do? Great! Tell you what, I'll go get the information for you to take care of it. In the meantime, you go get some ice to recover from your little training session. I'll call you as soon as I have the info. Bye for now..."

And with that, Chalmers hung up and walked down the hallway, in the direction of the administrative offices.

Buffy came from around the corner, and watched him go. {Well, that was...strange. Maybe I'll have a word with Jonathan or Willow, to see what else they can find out about this guy. And I'll talk to Mom about changing insurance companies, as soon as possible.}

TBC...


	18. Chapter 18

**Part Eighteen**

**Georgetown, Washington D.C. November 20, 2000**

"What do you mean, you don't know where she is?! You're her case officer. I thought we were paying her a boatload of money to work for us!"

Esther sighed at Cleburne's question as she cradled the phone on her shoulder, typing with her hands on her computer while she did so. It was way too late in the day for this. "Joshua. I understand your frustration..."

"Damn right I'm frustrated! I'm about to take the kid Lord knows where on this planet looking for *the* Holy Grail, which I might add has been pretty well hidden for the last 2,000 years, and we can't find our resident thief. Somehow, I think her skills might come in handy - don't you? After all, we *might* wind up having to steal that thing!"

"I know, I know! Cleburne, you're not telling me anything that I don't already know myself. But apparently, she's taking care of something we've heard some rumblings about. All I know is that it involves some kind of 'job' out west; something mystical is about to be stolen. Ms. Raiden picked up word of it, and so is looking into it for us."

That brought some grumbling from the other end of the phone line. "Joshua, didn't your doctor warn you about stress?" the black woman asked innocently.

"Come on Esther, stress is just part of the package in this line of work. After all, this isn't a low-risk job!"

Esther Marcum smiled at that. {True enough, stress is actually pretty low down on the list of things for him to worry about these days.} "Tell you what, old friend. You and your entourage don't leave for another couple of days; I should be able to run her down before that. After all, she can't have fallen off the face of the Earth - Gwen has to be around somewhere..."

**Los Angeles, California. November 21, 2000**

Gwen Raiden mentally cursed to herself in the darkness, a few hours after midnight. {Stupid amateurs, what are they thinking? }

She had picked up word through the grapevine of a job going down, involving something mystical in the City of Angels. She didn't know who was the mark or what was the prize, but as a so-called member of the good guys she'd learned enough that Gwen figured maybe she should look into it.

And when she'd gotten to LA, the brunette woman hadn't been filled with confidence over what she'd found out from her snitch. Some vampire named Jay-don, a 1970s throwback, was doing a major job involving something called the Shroud of Rahmon. Gwen didn't know what that was or what it did, but she knew someone seemed to be willing to shell out a lot of dead presidents in order to get it.

Still, from what she'd heard, the demons trying to carry out the job were *way* out of their depth on this one.

The female thief had found the demons in question, along with two humans and a vampire that she assumed was Jay-don. These people clearly had not worked together before, and bickered incessantly most of the time. Gwen actually considered calling the police and turning them in, just to avoid the embarrassment of witnessing such a sloppy crew go to work...

But instead she followed them to the target, which they had just slipped into. So Gwen silently made her way in after them. {Lord, save me from ever having to work with incompetent idiots like them! I better make sure they don't disgrace the name of thieves everywhere.} the young woman thought in disgust, as she followed them into the Southern California Museum of Natural History.

**Thirty minutes later**

Kate Lockley drove up to the museum in question. She was in a foul mood, after her run-in with Angel earlier that night. She had gone to the vampire's place looking for Darla; and the encounter had not gone well.

Darla was currently wanted by the LAPD for questioning; her activities while with Wolfram & Hart had been of the nature such that the police had taken a very dim view of them. The orders were quite clear; take her into custody - no ifs, ands or buts about it.

Kate knew that Angel was also looking for the blonde former vampiress. So she'd figured his hotel would be a good place to start looking for the woman.

Angel had disagreed with that scenario immediately.

He had been evasive as to his knowledge of Darla's location, and the LAPD detective had quickly come to the conclusion that the vampire with a soul knew far more than he was letting on. And when she had pressed him on it, the response had been direct with Angel saying, "Go home, Kate. You get stuck between me and Darla, it'll be the last thing you ever do."

Later, two officers at the stationhouse had shown her the photographs of the suspect they felt was the inside man for a job at the museum she was now approaching. Then they had shown her the photo of Angel and some guy meeting at a bus depot, who was famous for robbing museums. And that had been enough for her.

So the female detective had grabbed her combination cross/stake and headed over here. But as she got out of her car and entered the scene of the crime, she had no way of knowing that in addition to those she was expecting - Wesley, Cordelia and the thief named Gwen Raiden were also within the Museum of Natural History.

And not far away, Cordelia Chase was finally feeling good after all the events of the day.

First, there had been the thing with her hair; how no one had noticed until now what she'd done with it, ten days ago. Then there had been the public humiliation from Wesley spilling shrimp sauce all over her dress, right in front of Chow Yun Fat at that gala soiree they'd gone to. And to top that off, that Darla bitch had smirked nonstop at her embarrassing appearance, after they'd left early and arrived back at Angel Investigations.

But all of that had meant little, compared to the sight of Angel giving Darla a goodbye kiss on the cheek - before setting out to impersonate Jay-don, and save Gunn's cousin Lester.

The former ruler of the high school elite had not reached her position back then, merely by her incredibly good looks alone. Cordelia knew people; and that was how she understood that Darla was slowly worming her way into Angel's heart, making a permanent place for herself here within the group.

And *that* meant the re-appearance of Angelus, sooner or later...

But now, all that seemed insignificant. Because right at the moment, she was feeling *great*! Cordy admired her reflection in a glass case, having recently stolen some Native American jewelry from a nearby dummy. The beauty queen said to herself dreamily, "This *so* goes with my complexion! I truly am - pleasant."

When suddenly a very familiar voice responded, as the jewelry started to glow almost undetectably. "Speaking from experience, that's debatable."

Cordy started; lifting her eyes up from her chest, she saw the reflection of Xander Harris in the glass case. "XANDER?! What - how-?"

She made as if to whirl around and face him, but he who looked like the dark-haired young man she'd known and secretly loved shook his head at once. "No, don't turn around. Please, trust me on that..." Then he pointed at the Native American artifact. "It looks good on you."

Cordy smiled. "Well, duh!" Then she sobered up at once. "But this is impossible, you're dead. What am I, talking to my own subconscious now?"

The young man didn't answer; he just appeared to come closer, leaning his head down over her right shoulder. The former cheerleader desperately ached to turn around and tightly grab hold of him, but somehow she held herself in check as the image of Xander said solemnly, "We need to talk."

"About what?" Ms. Chase asked at once.

"Bottom line? You have to let go, Cordy."

Those five words only made the former princess angry, though. "Hey, if that means what I think it does? I have! I did! I put you behind me, 2 1/2 years ago. I've gone out on tons of dates, ever since we broke up-"

"All of which have gone precisely nowhere. And you know why..."

Cordy seemed to deflate, just a little. But then she snapped out, "Hey, is it *my* fault if before we got halfway to the dessert, I ended up comparing all those guys to you - and not one of them *ever* measured up? And if you so much as mention Wilson Christopher, I swear I'll knock your teeth out! Xander, the only man who even came close to you was Doyle, and look what happened to him! Those damn Nazi demon bastards killed him..."

The tears started to fall freely, and that which looked like her childhood sparring partner said comfortingly, "He was a hero, Cordy, no one's denying that. But Doyle did what he did, so that you'd still have your whole life ahead of you - I know you've thought about marriage and children, a few years down the line. The problem is though, you're starting to obsess over me - how many times this week have you thought about 'us', every time you saw Angel and Darla alone together?"

Cordelia scowled, wiping away the tears. "If I didn't know any better, I'd swear you really *were* the loser dork I lost my heart to during junior year!"

The phantom Xander laughed gently in her ear, and suddenly Cordy couldn't stand this anymore. "Look, go away - all right? Because it hurts too much to see and hear you acting like this. On account of if he really was here right now, the *real* Xander would be calling me a bitch, or a whore, or a-"

"You know that it isn't true," her companion whispered comfortingly. "Heck, even Wesley knows that..."

Cordy was suddenly reminded of the pep talk that the former Watcher had given her, back in July. "I wish I could believe you, I really do! But deep down - I can't, not unless I hear it from the source direct, and what the odds of that happening, huh?"

"About the same as you ever tracking down that guy Alexander Hall," Xander smiled, before Cordy blinked and he vanished.

"What? Alexander Hall? Hey! Where did you go?" Cordelia finally turned around, but no one was there.

And in another world, she would have simply left with the jewelry, to later meet up with Wes back at the hotel. But here and now, Fate intervened - in the form of Gwen Raiden.

The professional thief had noticed the crazy black-haired woman talking to herself like that, after having to temporarily abandon the surveillance on Angel, Gunn and the rest of the thieves. Normally, she would have just dismissed her as irrelevant to the job at hand - but as she turned to leave, Gwen heard the words 'Alexander Hall' shouted out from the nut case.

{Huh? Did she mean - that guy from the plane, when I visited that Hellmouth place? She knows him? } Then the trained professional remembered Xander's words that day...

Against her better judgement, Gwen decided to come closer to Cordy and ask a few questions - before returning to see how Angel and the Keystone Kriminals were doing, trying to break into the vault containing the Shroud.

That was a mistake Ms. Raiden would bitterly regret, for the rest of her life.

As soon as Cordy saw her, the seer did the worst thing she could have possibly done; she stopped looking around for Xander, and opened her mouth to scream as loudly as possible.

Unsurprisingly, Gwen slapped a gloved hand over her lips at once. And then the Native American artifact started to glow like a supernova, as blue light flowed from Cordy's mouth all over the thief's body...

Just like what had happened almost exactly a year ago, when Doyle had kissed Cordelia goodbye and become the first of Angel's friends to die for the cause.

Both women instantly collapsed unconscious, twitching slightly as the wheels of destiny suddenly veered off in a new direction.

**Unknown heavenly dimension. The same time**

The creature that would one day be known as "Jasmine" instantly became aware that something had gone wrong.

The...entity in question had known for a while now, that things were not progressing as she and the rest of the Powers That Be had once foreseen. Even before she and the others had sent Skip to prevent the death of Willow Rosenberg, in fact. But Jasmine had felt that the First's desire for vengeance wouldn't interfere with her plans, to take physical form again on the mortal plane one day...

Until now.

Studying the situation though, Jasmine quickly understood that the damage was not irreparable. At worst, it might mean that Gwen would have to substitute for Cordelia in becoming her mother, two or three years down the road...

But then, that was something that the Power in question could easily live with. As long as she could find a way for Gwen to have sex with the miracle child when the appropriate time came, of course...

**Southern California Museum of Natural History, Los Angeles, California. Twenty minutes later**

Gwen Raiden moaned, as she put her hand to her forehead. {What the hell happened? I'm the one who's supposed to send out electrical shocks, not receive them!} She glanced around, and saw that the woman she had been approaching to ask questions was laying a few feet from her. Nothing appeared to have changed, since Gwen had made the mistake of heading towards her.

The thief sat up. "Damn," the brunette muttered to herself, as whatever had really happened to her - she had gotten zapped but good. She then glanced at her watch, a special one she wore that was designed to withstand the electrical energy her body contained.

"Damn it!" she said, louder than last time. Almost half an hour had passed since Gwen had stepped out of the shadows. She got to her feet, {Who knows how much trouble those amateurs have gotten themselves into?}

She glanced down at Cordelia. Cordy suddenly groaned, so Gwen knew that she was still alive. Ms. Raiden thought for a second, {She should be all right. And I've lost so much time already, I really can't waste any more here on this. Still... }

Gwen dragged Cordy out of the middle of the floor, and quickly hid her behind a display case. {There, she should be safe in case anybody with a badge comes by.} She looked around to make sure that no one had snuck up on her; and when satisfied, the expert thief then hurried from the room to find her quarry.

A few minutes later, Cordy awoke. She then sat up, holding her forehead as it throbbed in pain. "Ouch, ouch, ouch. I have *got* to stop having things like this happen to me!" She glanced around. "Hey!" {Where did that woman with the serious leather fetish go? }

The former cheerleader quickly pulled herself to her feet. She looked around in confusion, {No Leather Girl, and no Xander. Well, I must've just imagined the whole thing before passing out. Weird as, what my imagination comes up with nowadays! } She turned and left the room, looking for Wesley or Angel.

At that time, Gwen was safely hidden and watching Wesley lean over the body of Kate Lockley. {Damn it! People are not supposed to die, if a job is done properly.} Before she could step forward to check on the two of them though, two police officers with drawn weapons entered the room.

They took in the scene before them, and understandably were not pleased. They instantly dragged the former Watcher away, placing him under arrest. Gwen just cursed under her breath; Pryce was on his own, because she needed to find the ones who had actually done the stealing.

**Los Angeles, California. A few minutes later**

Angel ran into the alleyway, carrying the Shroud of Rahmon. He could hear the shouts of the demons he had been working with, earlier in the evening. And Gunn appeared to be trusting Angel again, like the ensouled vampire had asked him to.

So he quickly took out a lighter, and set the shroud on fire. The Champion quickly threw it to the ground, as the flames consumed the cursed thing. Then the former Angelus felt the inner battle he had been waging internally begin to dissipate; and while it did so, his senses were momentarily dulled.

Above him Gwen watched without being detected, as the Shroud was reduced to nothing but ashes. {Time to get gone, whatever happened here, I get me the feeling I want to be elsewhere when they sort it all out. Besides, I'm still a little buzzed from what happened back at the museum. I probably need to lay down and rest for a while. }

Gwen quickly made her way back to her apartment in town, not knowing that there were already numerous phone messages awaiting her there.

**Vatican City, Rome, Italy. November 25, 2000**

"NO WAY, no how! This is an extraordinarily bad idea. The worst idea in the entire history of bad ideas, in fact. It is breathtaking in its scope for the wrongheaded nature of it all!" That was Cleburne venting.

How Joshua Cleburne had gotten into such a state, was quite a story in and of itself.

Gwen Raiden had finally made her appearance in Washington, after Esther had scoured the country for her. The only explanation the woman gave for her short disappearance was that a bunch of amateurs were giving her trade a bad name, and she'd felt compelled to do something about it.

Neither Cleburne nor Marcum had been able to get anything more. So after the final preparations were completed the merry little band of Xander, Oz, Gwen, Rachael, Cleburne, Graham, and Gunny had left for Italy, with Monsignor Bentallo as their official guide.

Once in Rome, they had immediately gone to the ancestral home of the Popes - to the headquarters of the Special Office of the Vatican, to be more accurate. Xander could not help being impressed; only the Watchers Council Headquarters in London could rival the occult resources available to this secret branch of the Catholic Church.

The number of prophecies that the staff had been able to dig up, in the short period of time since they'd realized they had a living subject of said prophecies around, was amazing. There had even been some mumblings about the cryptic writings of Nostradamus! Everything the researchers had found was being reviewed, with the *guarded* input from Xander.

Because Harris had been uncomfortable the whole time he had been here in Rome, so far. The research staff he had encountered regarded him with a combination of awe and apprehension. After all - how often when you research millennia-old prophecies, do you actually meet someone literally mentioned in them?

Xander saw their glances out of the corner of his eyes, and heard how their conversations died down whenever he approached. The former Scooby then understood he hadn't really appreciated the treatment he had received from Cleburne's people, till he saw how other non-bad guys reacted to him being who and what he was.

The Siberians annoyed him and needled him a lot, but they treated everyone that way.

And there was something to be said for that, in Xander's humble opinion.

In any case, Bentallo had eventually read to them the prophecy concerning the discovery of the Holy Grail. It had actually been quite detailed. It mentioned how the warrior displaced in time would find the Grail in the company of his touched friend, during the waning months of the second millennium.

And that part had started off a whole new conversation as to when the millennium really ended, as Rachael thought January 1, 2000 was the start of the new millennium. Xander had just shook his head, remembering all the old fears about the Y2K bug when Bentallo had explained that no, the actual start of the new millennium was January 1, 2001. This meant that they were in the waning months of the millennium *right now*.

Cleburne had popped up and asked if the prophecy was so detailed, why hadn't the Catholic Church already gone and gotten the Grail before now? Because he was sure *someone* would have done so, with or without official sanction.

"Because we don't know its location, there's a riddle about a well..." He started to read, "_The Well not seen, but seen when necessary, will lead to the path to be taken by the Displaced One._"

Seeing the looks of his audience, Bentallo continued on, "So we know there's a well involved somewhere, but not where. The next part of prophecy seems to hint at where it is, though._ "The way to the Well will be illuminated by the lie of the Chosen One who is not, yet should be. The lie will be as to where the one who watches her had gone, yet had not gone._"

The confused looks from those listening, had not been matched by Xander; he had figured it out instantly. Staring at Oz, who got it only a second later, "The...Cotswolds? When Faith first showed up way back when, she said her Watcher had gone on that retreat, right? Turns out it wasn't true - her Watcher was dead, Faith was running from the vamp that had killed her. Giles said the retreat was taking place at the Cotswold Hills..."

Burying his astonishment and suppressed chagrin at having the riddle solved by Xander in an instant, where so many of his predecessors had failed to crack it over the last ten centuries, Bentallo just nodded. "_The Well not seen, but seen when necessary_...of course! The Deeper Well. And yes, the Watchers do have a retreat there in those hills. Many of them drive out from London once a year, to relax and meditate..."

And thus Cleburne - realizing they were talking about taking Xander to England, the home turf of the Watchers - had immediately made his displeasure known through the statement as to the whole thing being a *very* bad idea.

He went on at great length from his earlier statement. "Not only do you want to go to the land of Watcher Central, you wanna go to their little spa resort in the countryside? I mean, come on! Is there any way we could make it easier for the Council to learn what's going on? Maybe we could send them a telegram that we're coming!"

"Mr. Cleburne, I feel you're over-exaggerating the situation somewhat. The Watchers in the past have been rational, if a little callous at times. But they are not given to irrational actions-"

Cleburne glared at the Monsignor. "That was then, this is now. And we're talking about the same group of people that Quentin Travers is associated with. They didn't strike me as the most level-headed group of people out there, when they kidnapped Mr. Hall earlier this year!" And Xander mentally concurred in that assessment.

A chuckle arose from the back of the room. Cleburne's glare shifted targets, "What's so funny, Weitz?"

The Israeli secret agent struggled to not smile. "Look who's talking? Because you've been known to settle disagreements, by calling in air strikes and cruise missiles..."

"Which was entirely rational, in light of each situation," Cleburne responded. Another chuckle rang out, and the USMC colonel turned towards Gunny. "Now don't you start!"

The senior agent turned back to the Monsignor. "And just what is this Deeper Well, anyway?"

The holy man sighed, as the information requested would not help with the case to allow Xander to go to England. "Well, according to myth and legend, it's the place where the deceased Old Ones, the pure demons from millions of years ago, are kept in storage. It's a demon prison, so to speak. It's overseen by someone named Drogyn the Battlebrand, who we also know very little about besides unsubstantiated rumor, and his demon guards..."

Cleburne's face darkened at this piece of knowledge. "Wait a minute. You're actually proposing going to a demon prison, run by demons? Because if we get past the Tweed brigade, we'll have to deal with demon screws. I mean, these are demons mean enough to keep other demons in line!"

"I know it sounds bad..." Gunny started.

"Bad? Bad?!" Cleburne interrupted his shadow of many years. "This is beyond bad. Trading arms for hostages, *that* was a bad idea!"

Gunny winced at that, as he knew that whenever Cleburne mentioned the Iran-Contra mess from the 1980s - he truly was worked up. Joshua finished his rant, "This is a bad idea on the level of trying to put a man on the moon, using a hot air balloon!"

Cleburne paced for a few seconds. He then stopped, crossed his arms in front of him and turned to face the others. "Look, we'll just send someone else besides the kid - no one's got a gun to his head, forcing him to go! I mean, after all, we've got a professional thief here..." He nodded at Gwen Raiden. "She's been to England before, and we know she can deal with the Watchers."

Xander's eyebrows rose at hearing that. {Interesting, I wonder what she stole from them?} He made a mental note to try and learn more about Ms. Raiden's past, in the future.

Monsignor Bentallo shook his head. "I'm sorry, but the prophecy is clear. Only the _Displaced One_ will find the Grail. And your friend here is quite clearly the displaced one referenced..."

"Well, maybe he finds it by remote and someone else actually goes and gets. Hey, doesn't it mention a touched friend? There you go, the touched friend can go get it." He looked at the room. "Who here is touched?"

The Siberians almost all rolled their eyes as one. Gwen spoke up, "Well, from what I've seen so far, you're the prime candidate..."

Cleburne needed a second to get the insult. "Heyyyy! That's not what I meant, and you know it. Look, besides the kid being too valuable to risk this way, I really don't want to risk his getting hurt or worse. I know he can handle himself, on account of my ribs are still sore from our last workout, but the Watchers don't seem to be playing by the rules anymore and the demons are an unknown quantity..."

Xander was actually touched, when he realized that Cleburne seemed to mostly be worried about his well-being. "Your ribs are still sore?"

Cleburne glanced at Xander. "Not now, kid, I'm trying to stop you from doing something incredibly stupid!"

Another chuckle from Gunny emerged. "You're one to talk," Charles said to Cleburne, with the familiarity of someone who had been in combat with him for years.

Cleburne ignored Gunny's comment. "Even with the theoretical protection under the Visiting Forces agreement, I still say he should not go to England. It's the Tweed boys' home turf. In my professional opinion, it's too risky!"

Bentallo spoke up in reassuring terms. "I know you're concerned, that you feel responsible for Mr. Har-"

"Don't use that name. And damn right I do!"

Bentallo continued on, ignoring Cleburne's interruption. "However, in *my* professional opinion, I think it is worth the risk. After all, I will be accompanying him. The Church is good at being discreet, and given our resources I doubt the Watchers will ever know he was even there. And even if they do learn of our presence, he will be under my personal protection. I doubt that that the Council would want to endanger their reputation, to the point of creating an international incident with the Vatican. To do so would also endanger the cooperation which has taken place between the two groups."

"You're risking a lot here-" Cleburne started, only to stop when Gunny spoke up. "Robert E. Lee."

Everyone looked at the Marine sergeant-major in puzzlement. After a second, Cleburne responded with a scowl, "You know - it may in fact have been a bad idea, to teach you so much military history..."

"For those of us who aren't part of the Marine secret fraternity, allow me to say - what?" Rachael said.

"In order to be a good general, the general must love his men. But in order to be a good general, he must also be willing to march his men off to their deaths. Lee supposedly said that, at the Battle of Gettysburg," Cleburne explained.

"Awwww. You love me, Mother Hen?" Xander asked with a half-smirk on his face.

"Hey, I'm quoting the Grey Fox. Don't crack wise with me, kid!" Cleburne turned back to face Bentallo again. "Look, even though this is the *real* Holy Grail we're talking about, I don't want to send Hall somewhere he might get snatched, or get his brain sucked out. I just can't..."

"I want to go."

Everyone in the room turned to face Xander, who had spoken up. He shrugged, "Look, it's my tail on the line and I know I might regret this, but I think...I get me the feeling this needs to be done. After all, it's important enough that someone wrote a prophecy about it, a thousand years ago! And nobody's written that I'm inevitably going to die here, like that suck-fest at the end of sophomore year..."

Oz sharply turned his head around, when he heard his friend say that. He hadn't been part of the Scooby gang back then, but after he had gotten together with Willow - the werewolf had heard all about *that* little adventure, from his redheaded love. His face a stoic mask as always, the lycanthrope just stared as Xander finished up, "So I should go."

Cleburne looked at Xander for a few seconds, before speaking again. "Well, before we leave Rome, I have to talk to the Wizard and Esther. No way we're taking this kind of risk, just on a whim! Plus before we go, and notice that I said *we*, every possible preparation is going to be taken. And if I feel hinky about *anything* along the way, I'm instantly calling it off without prior notice!"

Xander just smiled to himself at the senior Siberian's bluster. {Well, guess I'm going to England, land of the bangers and mash - as well as the Tweed brigade. God, I really hope I don't regret this.}

**Bus station, Kansas City, Missouri. November 26, 2000**

Bethany Chaulk used her fork to carve a piece of the meatloaf she was eating. She was eating sparingly; this meal would have to last her a while, because she was rationing the funds the ensouled vampire called Angel had given her until she reached Milwaukee. She had distant relatives there that she hoped to find shelter with.

Till then, it was the grand tour of the USA on the Greyhound bus system. Angel had figured that there was less chance of Wolfram & Hart finding her using buses, as Lilah Morgan and her lackeys probably would be checking airport terminals and the like, assuming she was flying.

"Is this seat taken?"

Bethany looked up, and saw a small boy standing in front of her. "No, but I'm warning you kid, I won't be very good company."

"I understand completely. But I'll join you nonetheless." The boy sat down and pulled out a juice box, sticking a straw in it. He pulled out a second one, and slid it across the table to Chaulk. "Here. It appears you're trying to stretch your dollars as much as possible, so I thought you might want this."

She looked suspiciously at the juice box. The child simply shrugged, "I assure you, Ms. Chaulk, there's nothing for you to worry about."

Bethany immediately tensed up. {He knows my name? Shit.} "All right. I'm warning you only once, kid, you *don't* want to mess with me..."

The boy held his hands up in surrender. "Ms. Chaulk, I assure you that I mean you no harm. In fact, it's quite the opposite - as you and I share something similar."

She kept glaring at the little boy sitting at her table. "And that is?"

"Our brains cause us to have...gifts...different from that of other people. And we both want to use our gifts to help others. I know of a way that you can do so. Oh, I almost forgot, allow me to introduce myself - I'm Dr. Irving Hollins. And I'd like to talk to you about finding a safe place to rest up, for as long as you'd like."

Memorandum E-12 11-27-2000

Classification: Top Secret ULTRA MAXIMUM SECURE

From: Esther Marcum

To: Joshua Cleburne

Re: Requests and trip

_Dear Joshua,_

_Your situation has been discussed at the highest levels of STW, and as much I hate to tell you this - the Committee concurs with Monsignor Bentallo's assessment of the situation. It is felt that the possible benefits outweigh the potential risks of the mission, and despite personal feelings - you have a Go. _

_Okay, first off, quit yelling at the computer screen. I've said it before; yelling at an email won't help things in any way. Second, as your request, which I'll address in a second shows, Mr. Harris is quite capable of handling himself. Third, he will not be going alone, he will have the protection of the Catholic Church. Also, considering what you have in mind, he will have ample backup from our resources._

_We would ask however that you consider scaling back some of your ideas. For example, I'm pretty sure that the 101st Airborne Division holding a training exercise in the Cotswolds would raise some unwelcome eyebrows. Remember, we *are* supposed to be a covert organization._

_As an aside, I'm sorry that you're upset over the Wizard helping out on the recruitment of Ms. Chaulk. But considering her emotional state, all of us felt that your normal approach to recruiting personnel would have been counterproductive in that circumstance. Far more likely than not, we would have had to scrape you off the wall after she had sent you flying away at 50 miles per hour, due to your charming personality. Hollins was able to connect with her in a way that neither you or myself would have been able to, and thus positive results were obtained - which is all that matters, in the end._

_As we are now only ten months away from al-Qaeda's attack, we need to start thinking soon as to specifics with regards to dealing with the threat. Sometime around the first of the year, we'll need to set aside time for a meeting of all necessary principals to discuss suggested methods of response. We'll have to wait until after the political situation is settled; most likely we'll know by then which Presidential candidate is our new Commander-in-Chief._

_Finally, I have reviewed your request for further training materials. All I can say is I want to discuss them with you, particularly some of the personnel you've requested, before I make a decision concerning them._

_Contact me when you are done in England. And keep yourself and the others safe, old friend._

_Esther_

**The Cotswold Hills, England. November 28, 2000**

"Please tell me this well we're looking for is somewhere nearby? We've been tramping all over the place for hours now! And this is not what I signed up for when I became a thief," Gwen Raiden complained.

Bentallo answered her, quoting the passage. "_The Well not seen, but seen when necessary, will lead to the path to be taken by the Displaced One. _The well is most likely hidden by magical means. I imagine once we get near where it is with Mr. Hall, it will appear..."

The Siberians had slipped into England on a military flight, straight into a United States Air Force base, around midnight the night before. Cleburne had used the time in Rome before they'd left to make various preparations, only some of which Xander and his companions were aware of. With forged papers, they had then slipped out of the base and headed towards the Cotswolds.

It was now early afternoon; and the gang had been walking for ages, passing themselves off as a group of hikers since early morning - but with no success.

"I don't mean to be picky or anything, but how will we know when we've found the Well? Somehow, I kinda doubt there's gonna be a sign saying *this way to the demon prison*, or anything like that!" Cleburne commented.

Bentallo answered him in the only way he could. "Well, I imagine when the time comes...the Well will show itself somehow."

Xander could hear Cleburne muttering under his breath, something about a grasshopper, the Wild West and snatching a stone from his hand. And for once Xander knew how Giles had felt back in Sunnydale, when cultural references he didn't understand had often been thrown around by the Scoobies.

"How about this?" Rachael spoke up. "Let's try that path over there - and after about half an hour, if there's nothing we'll take a rest break." She waved towards a path that went off into the woods.

Gunny squinted his eyes at the path the Israeli secret agent had indicated. "Colonel? That path wasn't there a few minutes ago. I'd stake my pension on it."

Cleburne looked at Xander and Bentallo. "Not one word, you two! Come on, the sooner we do this, the sooner we're back home..."

**Fifteen minutes later**

"Maybe I'm overly paranoid, but I'd say this just screams out *mistake*," Graham said thoughtfully.

He was referring to where they had just arrived. The group had followed the path, and come to where it had suddenly become a wooded copse. The area looked distinctly dark and foreboding, even in the middle of the afternoon; somehow, the sunlight didn't penetrate through the trees, and the landscape seemed to be locked in darkness.

"I'm thinking we're well past mistake. We're at the point where the detectives investigating the deaths ask later, *what the hell were they thinking?*" Gunny joked. This just earned him a glare from Cleburne.

Oz was looking around at the woods surrounding the travelers. "Ah, guys? Company..." he said.

This got the rest of them looking there also. Several of the soldiers cursed under their breath, and started going for the weapons they had hidden under their clothes.

For coming out of the woods were demons, and lots of them. Tall, grey-ish, with small horns and fierce looks on their faces, it was clear they did not have friendly plans for the group.

"Kid? You, Bentallo, Rachael and Gwen get behind us. We'll delay them long enough for you to get back to the main path," Cleburne said, as the Siberians and Oz assumed combat positions. Oz prepared himself to shift into werewolf form, at the moment of greatest tactical advantage.

"No way, I don't let others fight while I hide. Not anymore, I had enough of that during high school! And I don't intend to start again now!" Xander quickly made his way to the front of the group, and prepared himself to take on the demons also.

As he did so, Harris became clearly visible to the approaching demons. The demons instantly slowed their charge, and then completely stopped. Lowering their weapons, several of them looked at each other in apparent confusion and started babbling to one another.

Cleburne looked worried. He called out, "Father, you speak the lingo? If so, what's going on?"

Bentallo answered, ignoring the Marine's mistake as to his title, "I'm sorry, my son, but I don't understand what they're saying-"

"I do, a little anyway. They're confused, they seem to think..." Xander's voice trailed off as he listened to the demons, putting to good use some of the language skills he had unwillingly picked up during nearly five years in a hell dimension.

"What, kid?" Cleburne prompted him, as one of the demons hurried behind one of the trees.

"They're sending for someone higher up, an officer or something. They're saying they have to be sure."

"Sure of what?" Rachael stepped forward, as she was annoyed that Cleburne had automatically assigned her to the group needing protection. Because she could take care of herself very well, thank you very much, as several terrorists over the years had learned to their everlasting regret.

"I don't know," Xander answered back with a frown.

After a few minutes, during which the Siberians and demons stared at each other somewhat uneasily, what looked like a man came out of the tree in question.

He was tall, but not unnaturally so. His hair was long and uncut, and he wore what appeared to be leather armor and a cloak. If anything, he looked like Viggo Mortensen without the beard! And he was clearly the leader here, as the demons all instantly deferred to his authority.

The man stared at Xander for a full ten seconds. "You," Drogyn the Battlebrand almost growled. "Cover up your left eye. I need to be sure that you are who I think you are."

Xander turned and looked at the others. For some reason, his look came to rest upon Rachael, who was staring at him in surprise. Xander then shrugged his shoulders, turned back towards the Keeper of the Well and put his left hand over his left eye for several seconds.

Drogyn nodded, clearly satisfied. "Yes, it *is* you. So, finally you've arrived! I was beginning to think that the prophecy was a false one. I am Drogyn, and you may enter the Deeper Well." The Keeper observed the others with Xander with a critical eye; he then pointed at Oz. "The wolf man may accompany you. No one else."

"Why?" Cleburne demanded harshly. He did not like this one bit.

Drogyn coldly observed the source of the inquiry. "Do not ask me questions. I could kill you in less time than it would take for you to blink!" was the snarled response.

Bentallo hurried to explain. "Colonel, if the rumors are true - he could, and he would. Drogyn is the Battlebrand. He was cursed with eternal youth over a thousand years ago; he's also a truthsayer as well as a demon bane, and thus he cannot lie. Oh, for heaven's sake, will you please stop blinking?"

Gunny noticed that his commanding officer was indeed blinking, clearly testing Drogyn's comment. {I swear, all this time the Colonel has spent watching over Mr. Hall here has started to go to his head. He wouldn't have done so two years ago! }

Xander spoke up. "And I'm guessing there's a reason, why only me and Oz are allowed in..."

Drogyn turned and stared at Xander. "The Deeper Well is a place of madness. No human apart from its Keeper has ever entered it, and emerged intact."

A look of confusion crossed the former Scooby's face. "Just makin' a statement here, but I'm 100% human."

The Keeper shook his head in response. "The stench of the Hyena is still strong within you. Thus, you technically qualify otherwise. You can enter and not be driven insane. Come with me or not, as you please." The demon bane then turned around, and walked back towards the tree - which was the entrance to a literal hole in the world.

Xander and Oz looked at each other for a second. Then they wordlessly turned and followed Drogyn, heading for the underground cave system that contained the Deeper Well. Xander called back over his shoulder, "Hold on Mother Hen, we'll be back in a while. Hold down the fort, or whatever..."

Cleburne made as if to follow them anyway, unwilling to let Xander out of his sight and to hell with all the warnings; but the demon guards instantly raised their weapons again. Joshua swore silently, reaching for his firearm, {Damn it!}

Gunny grabbed his C.O. by the arm and said softly, "Like I said back then in the Czech Republic, how about you calm down and just trust in the lieutenant's instincts, Colonel?"

Reluctantly, Cleburne stood down as the guards slowly followed the Keeper back inside the tree. "I got me a really bad feeling about all this..."

Xander and Oz just followed Drogyn, going deep underground, as the Keeper led them to their destination. Along the way, he talked a little bit.

"Besides keeping the deceased Old Ones under guard, I also have several other duties. One of them was waiting for this prophecy to be fulfilled. Like I said before, after all this time - I was beginning to wonder if you would ever show up." He kept walking, not even looking back as he did.

Xander looked at Oz. "Nice to feel wanted. And I got to tell you, all this brings back memories of the speech Giles made years ago, when I first found out about demons and vamps. The 'this world is older than you know' one..."

The werewolf stared back, not quite sure what he was talking about. "Before my time."

"Right, right. But thing is, he mentioned the Old Ones back then; huh, haven't given that part of the Slayage manual much thought ever since. Hey, Drogyn? Anything you wanna tell us about them..."

The demon bane slowed down, looked at Xander over his shoulder for a second, then turned back around and continued on. "That part need not concern you. All you need know is I became Keeper here decades ago, in part due to a prophecy. Because the prophecy was clear that I was to meet you, here and now. And it spoke of you looking...different from how you would present yourself to my guards. They summoned me, so we could be sure." Drogyn abruptly stopped, and motioned at the wall where something was hanging.

Xander got closer and looked at it. And it would not be wrong to say he was completely shocked, when he got a good look at it.

There hanging on the wall was a parchment that looked to be very, very old. Normally, its great age would be the first thing to be noticed about it; however, Xander and Oz were more concerned with what was actually drawn on the paper.

Which was the face of the one and only Alexander Lavelle Harris.

With his left eye covered by a black eyepatch.

Oz actually made an expression. "Xander, that's you?"

Harris nodded slowly, facing down memories of a future that he had often hoped would now never come to pass. {One day, Caleb, one day.} "What I eventually looked like in that other world, yeah."

Oz said nothing more, but he couldn't help instantly noticing the subtle differences in the picture when compared to his old friend beside him. That other Xander had such a drawn, worn-out, pessimistic expression on his face that it almost made him look like a complete stranger to the lycanthrope - the missing eye a testament to too many battles, fought for too little reward.

{The guy looks like he's been on the front lines during a war - for way too long, } the werewolf thought to himself, slowly and analytically. {What the hell happened to Xander, then and there? One day, I'm gonna hafta find out.}

Drogyn turned and looked at the two former Scoobies. "Joseph of Arimathaea drew that image here nearly 2,000 years ago, when he arrived with the cup to assume his duties as Keeper of the Deeper Well. Ever since then, both it and the Grail have remained here undisturbed. Until now." He stared at Xander. "Ask me your question."

Xander shrugged. "Okay, so what's next? What does your prophecy say happens?"

"My role in the prophecy is to take you to the Grail, nothing more. What you do next is up to you." He turned again and started walking further down into the earth, with Oz and Xander hurrying after him.

After walking again for what seemed like hours, they entered a chamber. Drogyn again turned to his companions, "The Grail is here, and my part in all this is over for now. Both of you are on your own."

Oz stared at him. "We can just take it and leave?"

Drogyn scowled, but answered the question anyway. "No. The Grail is now part of the power system here, keeping the Old Ones imprisoned in their sarcophagi; I'm sure you noticed all my charges, on the way to this place. The cup must not be taken beyond the boundaries of the Well, or else..." And with that, he turned and exited the chamber.

Daniel Osbourne shrugged. "Guess I won't be going on the front page of the _National Enquirer_, after all."

Xander smirked, glad that Oz was somehow keeping his cool about all this. {Then again, it's Oz. What else should I have expected? } Looking around, both men then saw a small cup at the other end of the chamber.

And it certainly didn't look like what Xander had personally anticipated seeing, after years of conditioning from watching '_Monty Python And The Holy Grail_'.

"Somehow, I thought it would be more...glittery," the former Zeppo commented, as they approached the prize.

"It's not," Oz said simply.

Indeed, there was no golden vessel studded with sparkling diamonds and rubies; just a plain wooden container. Something that might indeed have been used by a poor Jewish carpenter during the Passover festival, back in the 4th decade AD.

"What now?" Xander picked up the Grail and examined it, the first man to do so in nearly two millennia. "What now. Do we take a drink out of it, or what?" He gave it to Oz, who examined it as well in awe. "What do we do?"

"Well, we can't take it out of the Well. So we can probably move it around anywhere within this place, just not out of it. And I'm thinking that drinking is the best choice right now," Oz replied.

Suddenly, the platform that the Grail had been on completely sank into the ground. Xander and Oz looked at each other, and the werewolf quickly gave the Grail back to his friend. {The prophecy was about him, not me. This is Xander's big day.}

"Well, putting it back where we found it seems not to be an option anymore," Harris commented in annoyance, looking around. "Still, funny thing - but I'm not a big fan of the whole 'drinking from the Holy Grail' plan. I mean, look what happened to the bad guy in that Indiana Jones movie! I *really* don't want to get all wrinkly-boney, and then dead."

Oz looked at Xander. "That was because he was bad. You're not a bad guy."

Xander sighed, thinking of 1999 Sunnydale. "Don't say that without knowing everything, Oz. Because I've killed people in cold blood, before this..."

Ignoring the look the other man sent him, Harris went on, "And even putting that aside for the moment, there's also that whole 'who-wants-to-live-forever?' thing. Because I *don't* want to live forever, dude. I know myself well enough that it would get completely boring after a while - best case scenario, I'd become someone like...Angel. And worst case? Look at that Drogyn guy! He's over a thousand years old, and seems to be having a real blast..." Xander commented with the sarcasm evident in his voice.

Oz suddenly noticed a basin in another corner of the room. "At least fill it up with water. You may just have to do that. After all, the prophecy didn't tell us exactly what you were supposed to do after you found the Grail."

Xander shrugged and walked over to the basin. He filled the cup about halfway, and then glanced at Oz. "So what now?"

"I don't know. Maybe that Drogyn guy does, so I'm thinkin' let's go find him..."

Xander and Oz walked out of the chamber to look for the Keeper. As they walked down the corridors, suddenly the older man spoke up, wanting to unburden himself about something (if this was the last chance he would ever have to do so). "I'm sorry, Oz."

This completely confused the werewolf. "Sorry? For what?"

"Well, it's kinda hard to explain. I know that it never happened in this world, in this version of history that you and everyone else remembers - but I've got the memory of it in my head, it's as if it *did* happen for me, so I gotta tell you something you're not gonna want to hear..."

Xander then proceeded to explain to Oz about the clothes fluke, wincing in terrible pain as he did so. How he and Willow had somehow become attracted to one another, in the senior year that had never happened. How the fluke had progressed, until they'd been caught red-handed by Cordy and Oz in that old factory; and the Chase girl had been impaled by that rebar, as a consequence.

Oz was more silent than normal at that point. Then he spoke up, "Xander - all I gotta say is this. I understand that there are all these weird memories in your head, but bottom line - all that never took place here. I mean, that stuff is just could-have-been or would-have-been material; the point is, it never happened. So you don't need to apologize for any of that, not to me or anyone else."

Xander stopped and stared at Oz. "Whoa, does the wolf-man package come with the whole philosopher thing?"

"It's an optional extra. It was either that, or a cup holder."

That got a laugh from Xander. Suddenly, the tunnel opened up into a bridge. Xander and Oz didn't recognize it, but in the future history that would have been, Angel would have recognized it instantly.

They were at the heart of the Deeper Well. The hole in the world, that went all the way down through the Earth's core. Both men looked around in new awe, stepping onto the bridge and seeing all the imprisoned Old Ones around them.

Oz spoke up, "Uh, something occurring. When whoever it was wrote that prophecy way back when, they wanted you to find the Grail. *You*, not someone else."

"Looks like it," Xander shrugged, wondering what his point was.

"Well, that means they wanted you to do something with it. And how many things can you do with a cup? Beyond taking a drink out of it, I can't think of many..."

Xander kept silent, knowing now where Oz was going with this. The werewolf went on, "I know that those Powers That Be - or whatever they're called - can seem pretty out there at times, but having you run a pointless errand like this just doesn't seem like their thing. They wouldn't send you all this way and have you take all these risks, just to find the Grail and then do nothing with it - right?"

Xander sighed, briefly thinking of the half-demon called Doyle that had found him in LA nearly two years ago. "Probably not..." {Yeah, almost definitely not, Come on, don't be a pussy - you *know* Oz is right. There's no point trying to put this off any longer, so just get it over with. If this thing kills you - well, so be it. }

With that, the young man put the cup to his mouth and took a long drink. And as soon as he stopped drinking, an earthquake started - as the bridge began to pitch and yaw wildly. Xander instantly lost his balance, and dropped the Grail; it rolled to the edge of the bridge, and teetered there. Xander started to reach for it, when he heard Oz shout out.

The earthquake had knocked Oz off-balance as well, but his luck wasn't as good as Xander's - and he fell off the bridge. Xander immediately jumped forward and down, reaching out desperately with his left hand; luckily, his reflexes had become somewhat quicker from dealing with all those stress balls Cleburne had been throwing at him, and he just managed to grab his friend.

Oz inadvertently looked beneath him for a second, down into the abyss below - and his eyes went wide. Above him, straining to maintain his grip, Xander glanced at the Grail - it was out of his reach, in order to get to the cup he would have to let go of Oz...

But to his credit, the former slave didn't even have to think about it. Forgetting all about the trinket, Xander instantly shifted over and grabbed Oz with his other arm. "Gimme your other hand!"

He then quickly pulled his buddy up to safety, as the Grail fell off of the bridge into the very depths of the Well. Xander leaned back in frustration as Oz caught his breath, and silently groaned. {Well, that's great! I just lost the Holy Grail? Drogyn's probably gonna kill me for this!}

"Thanks Indy," the musician then said with his trademark calmness, despite how close he'd come to death.

His companion groaned at that. "Oh man, tell me we didn't just act out the big finale of that Indiana Jones movie?"

Oz nodded. "Seems like it to me."

Harris shook his head. "Well, it coulda been worse. If it had been Rachael here instead of you - oh hell, it woulda just made things even more complicated between us!"

The werewolf raised an eyebrow. "I can tell you're starting to like her, y'know."

Xander smiled, leaned over and slapped Oz on his back. "Yeah, but don't let her hear that - or she'll make my life impossible! And just for the record man, you're my friend. I don't have too many of them, so no way I'm ever letting you get killed!"

The two of them pulled each other up, and walked back in the direction they had come. After a minute or so, they encountered Drogyn.

"There was an earthquake. What happened?" he demanded. Oz and Xander quickly explained what had happened, and how the Grail had fallen off the bridge.

Oddly enough, the Keeper of the Well didn't seem too upset about it. "Do not worry, I'll find the Grail again soon enough. After all, I have all the time in the world in which to do it! You have done what was prophesised that you would do. The time has come for you to leave."

With nothing else to say, he quickly led the two of them back up out of the cave system. As they came back to where they left their companions, Xander immediately noticed that there were a lot more people there than before...

Of course, that was because of the large number of armed Watchers that were now present.

Oddly enough Cleburne didn't seem too worried about it, despite staring down the gun barrels of several of the Council operatives. Clearly, the Siberians and the Watchers had reached some kind of standoff. "Kid, are you done yet? I'm getting kinda bored here," the USMC colonel drawled lazily.

Xander didn't get a chance to respond as a familiar voice spoke out, "Mr. Harris, I must say - I am quite amazed at this turn of events. I never expected that you and yours would underestimate our surveillance capabilities! And at first, I simply couldn't believe that you were in England, after all - why would you just deliver yourself to us like this? Then come to the Cotswold Hills? However, I am never one to question good fortune..." Quentin Travers smirked, and was positively glowing with smug satisfaction.

"Questioning things is good for you, Quentin, it makes you a better person. And by the way, my name is Alexander Hall," Xander replied stiffly. { What a mess. How are we frickin' well gonna get out of this one? }

Travers smirked again. "What will make me a better person is knowing that the appropriate experts are *debriefing* you, back at our headquarters in London - whatever name you want to call yourself, child. And spare me the customary heroics; you and your colleagues are hopelessly outnumbered. Now surrender yourself to us, or we will kill them all."

That brought an exclamation of surprise from Bentallo. "I am a representative of the Special Office of the holy Catholic Church, and I object to your outrageous behaviour! I want to-"

But whatever the Monsignor was about to say was cut off by the senior Watcher. "I do not care who you are, or what you want! The child will be taken into custody by us, or you all will die here."

"Hey, you limey ass, you *really* don't want to tick us off. Purple Peanut Butter blanket."

Travers looked in confusion at Cleburne, based on the last few words the secret agent said. "You are hardly in any position to threaten anyone, Mr. Cleburne. And considering your treatment of my operatives last time we met, I would be more worried about you *ticking us off*, as you put it. Some of the agents you have mistreated are nearby, and I'm sure they would very much like the opportunity to deal with you..." the Englishman said to the senior Siberian, receiving only a grin in reply.

After a few seconds, the sound of several jets flying at low level, roared through the forest. Cleburne spoke up, "Did it ever enter your little head that we might be wired for sound, asswipe? And that a seemingly-meaningless code phrase might be the signal for some *off-course* Air Force fighter jets to start some maneuvers that might wind up in the *accidental bombing* of your HQ on Great Russell Street? Now, I'm sure that if we walk out of here without being bothered by anyone with a serious tweed fetish, something might be done to get those jets back on course."

Travers looked like he'd lost all sense of judgement. "You're bluffing, and if you're not, to be honest? As far as I'm concerned, that's an acceptable loss if it gets us our objective..." He nodded towards Xander. And that statement seemed not to go over well with several of the Watchers, who started lowering their weapons.

Cleburne rolled his eyes. "Oh great, he's crazy! Man, I hate dealing with crazy people. They always do stupid things-"

Suddenly Drogyn spoke up, addressing Xander and Oz. "Prophesised one, wolf man - I bid you both farewell. I don't know if I'll ever see either one of you again; but know that if you ever need help, I will gladly be of whatever assistance I can..." He then shouted something out in the demon tongue that had been heard earlier in the forest.

To his shock and disbelief Travers saw that the forest was suddenly full of demons, attacking his men. And in all the confusion, he quickly lost sight of Xander and his companions, who began to hit the road; as dodging the bullets - or in some cases, not - the demon guards started to tear into the Watchers, who found themselves *way* too busy to continue with the Mexican standoff.

As Travers hastily retreated, being sure to keep the other Council forces between himself and the demons of course, he heard Xander Harris' voice call out mockingly, "Give it up already, Blofeld. Because you'll never take me alive!"

Travers looked around, trying to catch sight of his prey. He then growled in frustration, as he realized that Xander had escaped him yet again.

TBC...


	19. Chapter 19

**Part Nineteen**

**The Vatican, Rome, Italy. December 6, 2000**

"How about this. Does it look more like the real thing now?"

Xander looked up at the technician, in response to her question. She was young, and had an eager look in her eyes. Xander noticed the cross on the necklace that she was wearing, and then looked at the computer screen that she was referring to.

The graphic image showed a good likeness of the Holy Grail, that he and Oz had recently held in their own two hands whilst in England.

Xander pondered it for a second before answering, "It's better, but the picture's still too..." The young man thought about it for a second to get the right word. "...fancy. Remember, it was an ordinary cup from 2,000 years ago. Nothing special; just a plain old wooden cup."

The woman looked at Xander. "Plain in what way, exactly?"

Xander sighed. He had expected to be debriefed on his departure from England. The Siberians were very thorough in learning as much as they could from each mission, and basically Xander had gotten used to their debriefings...

But what he hadn't expected was that that Catholic Church would want to debrief him about seeing the most holy relic of their religion.

Basically, Bentallo and his superiors had learned that both he and Oz had actually held the Holy Grail, as well as what its real purpose was nowadays. And, well - the reception they had gotten reminded Xander of back when he had first realized just how sought-after he was, in the summer of 1999.

And their reaction after they had learned that Xander had actually drunk from the Holy Grail...was beyond description. He was treated like a combination rock star, prophet and experimental animal.

First off, the man had undergone a battery of medical tests to see if he had been...changed, from the experience. But as far as the doctors could tell, Xander was no different to what he'd been before he had gone to look for the cup of Christ. Harris also had a sinking suspicion that when he got back to the United States, the doctors for the Siberians would be repeating many of the same tests he had just undergone all over again...

Then had started the interviews, Priests, scholars and important figures within the Church had all interviewed Xander about his adventure in the Deeper Well. They had hung on every word out of his mouth, and they had asked him to repeat the story ad nauseam, giving the guy monster headaches.

As an aside, Harris knew Oz had been going through similar interviews, but Xander suspected the werewolf was having a much better time of it than himself - due to his incredible equanimity, and the fact that Oz's typically short, noncommittal replies had to be driving the interviewers insane.

In between the interviews, Xander had also been asked to talk to an artist - who had been given the task of drawing as realistic a picture of the Holy Grail as possible, with the assistance of the most advanced graphics program available to the Catholic Church.

And that was where this technician came in. She had been talking to Xander for close to two hours now. Over that period of time, they had gone from a blank computer screen to having a fairly detailed rendering of the Holy Grail, which brought them to where they were now.

Xander leaned over, and pointed along the side of the image. "It's too thick. The sides were at least half as thick as you have them here, I'd say. We should get Oz in here as well, you know, have him give you his opinion..."

The technician thought about Xander's comments about the drawing being too fancy, and the thickness of the sides. She leaned over and made some corrections, using a combination of the keyboard and computer mouse to do so. "How about this?"

Xander nodded. "Better, much better. Now, uh, the color's off somewhat. Yeah, it's way too bright! It didn't gleam or anything; it was just kinda a dull brown in appearance..."

**Lisbon, Portugal. December 8, 2000**

"Okay, why are we here again?" Xander asked no one in particular, as the Siberians waited in an isolated hangar located at the Lisbon International Airport.

"We're here to meet someone," Cleburne answered. "And as to whom it is exactly, you'll have to ask the good Monsignor..."

Their time in Rome had finally gotten the Marine into the habit of saying the correct rank for the official from the Catholic Church. Cleburne turned around, "By the way, why *are* we meeting this person?"

Monsignor smiled. "I cannot tell you. I can only tell you that this meeting is at the express request of the Holy Father."

Cleburne just sighed, and went back to working his crossword puzzle. He quite didn't know how to respond to that. After all, even his smartass attitude had its limits.

The same was true for the others. So, they waited for another few minutes. Their wait was finally rewarded by a side door to the hangar opening up. Two nuns came in, escorting another much older nun that moved slowly. She painfully made her way to where Monsignor Bentallo was waiting, and he greeted her warmly in Latin.

Xander was able to follow their conversation somewhat, and his lessons in Latin that the Wizard had insisted on actually seemed to be paying off. {Ah well, he's the Wizard after all; ought to have figured by now, that he's right over 99% of the time.}

Bentallo was clearly deferential to the holy woman; whoever she was, she was obviously someone highly respected. Bentallo gestured over at Xander, and the old nun turned and made her way over to where the former Scooby was standing.

Xander was vaguely uncomfortable, as she approached and examined him. The former Sunnydalian could tell her eyesight was failing as the nun squinted at him, even though she was wearing glasses. {Why's she lookin' at me like that? }

She stared at Xander for almost a minute. She then turned to her fellow nuns, and said something in Portuguese. Whatever it was, it got them apprehensive and excited. One of them actually crossed herself.

The older nun reached up, as she was almost a foot shorter than Xander, and placed her hand against his left cheek. She then said something in Latin. The woman then took several steps back, said something in Latin to Monsignor Bentallo and then left, followed by her two sisters.

Rachael moved next to Xander. "What was all that about, Alexander?"

"I don't know," the former slave replied with a frown. He pondered the two phrases in Latin that the elderly nun had spoken...

Because to Bentallo she'd said, "It's him" - and to Xander she had simply said, "Have faith".

**Rochefort Institute of Strategic Planning, Urbana, Illinois. December 11, 2000**

"Has anyone figured out yet just what that whole thing in Lisbon was about?" Gunny asked, as he stood by the door of the examining room.

"No," the Wizard replied at once. Hollins then added, "Monsignor Bentallo would only say it was something the Pope personally requested, something about which the Pope had to be sure. I have the suspicion that there may be another prophecy out there involving you, Mr. Hall..."

Xander was sitting on top of an examining table, buttoning his shirt. "You know, it's times like this I kind of miss being nothing but the class clown..." He hopped off of the table. "So what's the word, Irving?"

Hollins looked over a file he was holding. "Well, basically, there's nothing out of the ordinary within you that we can detect, at least not any more than the Church could. These results match up with the results from the tests done in Rome, and your last STW physical before you left. I'm happy to say you're not dying or anything..."

Xander laughed at that. "It's good that you're happy. Still, I *would* like to know what the whole point of that prophecy was. I mean, all that trouble for apparently nothing - just for me to take a drink - seems a little pointless..." Xander hopped off the table, and stood up.

"I do have one question, if you don't mind," Hollins said as they exited the exam room and walked down the hallway, followed by Gunny.

"Go ahead. It's been my experience that when you want to know something, it's a good idea if you find out as soon as possible," Xander replied.

"How did it feel?"

Xander looked down at the child genius. "How did what feel?"

"Drinking from the Holy Grail? How did it feel? Did you feel...different, during or afterwards?" Hollins asked.

Xander stopped and stood still for a second. Surprisingly, no one had phrased the question precisely that way before. Both Hollins and Rachael looked at him, while the former Scooby frowned in thought.

"You know, I really didn't have a chance to reflect on it at the time, what with the earthquake starting and Oz going over the side of the bridge. Then we had the whole getting away from the crazed Watcher thing..."

"Yes, Joshua was most vocal in his desires on how to deal with the Council in the future. I suppose we should be thankful no one has yet developed a hand-held flame thrower that is easily concealed," the Wizard sighed.

Xander stared at the child for a moment, as a weird mental image briefly passed through his brain. But then he shook his head to get the image cleared away, "Anyway, pleasant thoughts of tweed in flames aside, the sensation I got from taking that drink was...well, a soothing one. I felt calm and relaxed."

Hollins nodded and started walking again, as his two companions followed along. "Interesting. And how long did this feeling last?"

"Well, actually, I still feel like that a little bit. Normally I would be a lot more anxious and impatient with all those medical exams I've gone through, but I've been much more accepting of them than I think I otherwise would have been."

"I wonder if we could get the Colonel to take a drink from that thing, then?" Gunny said from behind Xander and Hollins. They both stopped and looked back at him. {Man, Gunny really can give Oz a run for his money sometimes!} Xander thought.

"Yes, sergeant-major, that would be helpful in all likelihood. However, as the Grail is still in the Deeper Well, I am doubtful that we will be able to procure it anytime soon. Maybe some other methods of anger management for Joshua would suffice," Hollins said in a deadpan voice.

"Yoga, I read somewhere that yoga is good for the nerves..." Xander said. The three of them thought about it for a second, then burst out laughing at the same time.

They made their way to one of the conference rooms in the Institute. Cleburne, Gwen, Esther and Oz were already there. "Reports from Major Ellis and Captain Finn are that the situation in Belize should be in hand, before the end of the week..." Cleburne said before he looked at the new arrivals, "So what's the good word? The kid here going to sprout wings or something?"

Hollins shook his head. "Mr. Hall has a clean bill of health. We can find nothing about him different from a normal human being."

"Well, let's not go that far," Gwen joked.

"If we can focus, There are several matters we need to discuss," Esther said sharply, as the new arrivals took seats around the table. "Dr. Hollins, you wanted us to get some memoirs for you?"

"Yes, there was a Judge Keith Pursuivant and John Thunstone living in New York around the 1940s and '50s. They had encounters with vampires, demons and cults. Their notes and papers would be of great assistance to us," Hollins explained.

"Do we know where they are?" Esther asked.

"Yes; when both of them passed away, they had their personal papers given to a private club in New York City, The Heaviside Club. As far as I can tell, the papers are still there."

"So, we just ask them nicely for those papers?" Xander said. He noticed that Cleburne, Esther, the Wizard and Gunny were all now staring at Gwen.

"Oh, well, I guess from the way you're looking at me, that we're not talking about asking them," Gwen wisecracked.

"Yes, Ms. Raiden, this does seem something you would be quite adept at handling. What do you need?" Esther asked the thief.

"Well, a floor plan would be nice and - AGHHHHHHHHH!" Gwen suddenly screamed out, clutching her forehead in pain.

"What the hell!?" Cleburne exclaimed, as he and Gunny moved to help their acquaintance.

"Don't touch her!" Hollins yelled out. Cleburne and Gunny stopped at the warning, suddenly remembering what the young woman was.

After a few seconds, Gwen straightened up and looked around, still clutching her head. "What the hell was that?" she managed to croak out.

"We were about to ask you the same thing, Ms. Raiden. Has anything like that happened to you before?" Hollins said at once.

"No, nothing like this! I had a blinding headache, and I mean blinding 'cause I couldn't see you guys. I...I saw something else..."

"What did you see?" Esther asked, as Xander suddenly got a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. {Oh no, If this is what I think it is.}

"Well, there was this hotel lobby, and there was this girl clutching her forehead in pain. I recognized her, actually, from when I was last in Los Angeles. Then I saw this vampire I'd also seen then in LA, fighting a really big demon. I get the impression he was trying to save some blonde woman through some kind of trial," Gwen explained, her forehead creasing in confusion.

Cleburne looked closely at Gwen. "You haven't been taking some mind-altering drugs, have you?"

"No, I'd really bet she hasn't." The group turned, and looked at Xander as he spoke up. "I'm sorry, Ms. Raiden - Gwen. But I think I can explain what's going on..."

**The next day**

"I know I've been saying this a lot recently, but this is a bad idea!" Cleburne commented. They were back in the same half-circle conference room they had been in yesterday.

"You're right, you *have* been saying that a lot recently," Xander agreed. "But look, Mother Hen, I really think that Gwen needs to go to Los Angeles. She's been drafted by the Powers to be Angel's new seer, and that's not something you can just simply ignore..."

Xander had quickly realized that Gwen had received a vision yesterday. He'd recognized the description, from what he had heard Cordy went through on a regular basis. {Never realized that they were so painful for her, wonder if that's why she ended up dead by 2004? }

Gwen had then filled in the group on her trip to Los Angeles. She'd told them what had happened, including when she had touched Cordy with her gloved hand. "So, what's all this mean - bottom line?" she asked now.

"Somehow, you've managed to have had transferred to you from Ms. Chase the ability to receive visions from the Powers That Be. But why exactly would you be having visions related to the vampire in Los Angeles?" Hollins wondered out loud.

"The guys upstairs musta decided she's going to help Angel fight the good fight, given that reading Lorne did when he heard me sing - with Cordy dead in the future," Xander commented pragmatically. {Huh, guess this solves one of my problems - without any effort on my part, for once! Hopefully, my ex won't end up six feet under in a few years now. Oh well, whatever.}

Then he turned to Gwen. "Look, when you get there - if Angel has any doubts that you're bona fide, tell him this code phrase; 'May, 1997. I told you to eat before we left!'"

Ms. Raiden looked at Harris skeptically. "And *that's* gonna convince him?"

Xander smiled, remembering that night Buffy had died and been resurrected. And how he'd been *sure* that Angel had been checking out his neck, during their journey to find her and how vehemently the ensouled vampire had denied it. "Well, I'm thinking yeah..."

Cleburne piped up, "Forget the vampire's doubts, *I* have doubts - and my doubts about all this come first!" This had led to a long, free-ranging discussion as to whether or not it was a good idea for Gwen to set up shop with Angel Investigations.

"The problem is, she knows too much. She knows who we are. She knows about the kid. And the Wizard! She's been here, and knows where one of our most important bases is. We can't just let her hang out with a bunch of people - and non-people - who might or might not be a threat to us!" Cleburne was firing off objections at the pace of a machine gun.

"It's not like this arrangement is unheard of, need I remind you of where Josef Lemke is right now?" Esther responded.

"That's different!"

"How so, Joshua?" Hollins responded to Cleburne's comment.

Cleburne actually seemed unsure how to proceed for a second, then his face got a determined look and he started talking. "All right, not to be offensive..."

"Wouldn't be the first time," Gunny commented

Cleburne continued on, ignoring the comment by his right-hand man. "...but I don't know her as well as I do Lemke. After all, serving for five years alongside someone builds up a level of trust that just isn't present between myself and Ms. Raiden here. I know very little about her, and besides which - she's a mercenary."

"Hey, soldier boy, I don't notice *you* turning down your paycheck!" Gwen snapped back.

"You know what I mean. Money is not why I'm doing this; whatever paycheck Uncle Sam signs is fine by me. You, on the other hand, well - money is what drives you. It has to be asked, do you have a higher loyalty beyond your bank account?"

Gwen glared at the Marine. "I've done nothing to earn your distrust, Mr. Cleburne. The fact is, I've done everything you and your spooks have asked of me-"

Cleburne snorted. "How about earning my trust? That's more important than earning my distrust. 'Cause I'm not a trusting guy, by nature."

"I trust her." That came from Esther, who had become Gwen's case officer. "And I think you would agree that my instincts are usually pretty good in this area, Joshua."

Cleburne shifted gears immediately, as yes indeed he trusted Esther's instincts. "Okay, she's all right then as far as that goes. But there's still the problem of her having to hide the secrets she knows, from the people she's gonna work with every day-"

"Piece of cake," Gwen smirked. "I've been hiding things about myself practically my entire life, so your secrets won't be a problem at all."

"Ah, what about your work for us? Even with the visions, you *are* still a gifted thief. I would hope that STW would not have to give up your services," the Wizard commented.

Gwen turned to Xander. "This seer thing, can I phone it in?"

Xander looked confused. "Don't think it works like that, you would have to go to Los Angeles-"

Gwen waved Xander off. "No, no! I understand that part, but is there anything that says I have to stay there 24/7, 365 days a year? Can I slip off every once in a while to take care of business? Even when I was working for you guys, I still did jobs on the side. Now you people would be the jobs on the side. And I just *know* there's a lot of things to steal in LA..."

Xander shrugged. "Guess that's something you'll have to figure out, once you make contact with Angel and his Fang Gang-"

Cleburne groaned. "Fang gang? And please, tell me I'm not going to have to bail her out with the LAPD all the time?"

Xander chuckled. "Hey, you and Detective Lockley seemed to be getting along pretty well last time you were in LA. What would be the problem?"

Esther spoke up, ignoring Xander's comment. "Cleburne brings up a good point, Ms. Raiden, we can't risk you drawing law enforcement attention to either ourselves or your new companions. I know how you truly enjoy your line of work, but you'll most likely have to cut back on your activities..."

Gwen did not like that one bit. However, Esther sweetened the pot a little, "Not to worry, though, we wouldn't want to deprive you of your means of making a living. It depends on what exactly the vampire says and does, of course, but I'd imagine you'll maintain the cover of being a thief while you're there. Undertake certain jobs, but like now they would have to be approved of or sponsored by us."

"I still think her telling that undead guy the complete truth is a bad idea. After all, if his dark side pops up, we don't want this Angelus character to come hunting either the Wizard or the kid," Cleburne declared.

Hollins agreed. "Joshua has a valid point. At this time, there is no reason to endanger the operational security of the organization; which is a legitimate concern here. It would be best if your connection to our group remained a secret, for the time being."

Gwen didn't like that either. "So I lie to my new associates, straight off the bat. Not to point out the obvious, but that won't work forever - and later, that will *really* help in gaining their trust, y'know?"

"Yes. It's regrettable, however necessary. But the situation is still uncertain. For the time being, they will have to be kept in the dark."

Gwen stared at Hollins, and then at Xander. She then looked around at everyone else, "I need to talk to Mr. Hall here, in private."

"Why?" Cleburne asked at once.

"There are things we need to discuss - that are none of your business," Gwen stared at him without expression.

Joshua easily read the frostiness in her tone, which he attributed to his slurs on her trustworthiness just now. So he simply nodded, and led Hollins and Esther out of the room. When they were gone, Xander turned towards her. "What did you want to talk about?"

Gwen didn't answer him; she just took out several components of equipment from various pockets within her clothes. Screwing the items together, the thief set up what looked to be an old-fashioned transistor radio - but most definitely was not.

"My version of a white noise generator. Just in case we're being spied upon in here," Ms. Raiden gestured towards the walls. Xander nodded at her precautions, one could never be too sure about that sort of thing in this business.

"Look, Hall - no, first things first, what's your real name?"

Xander cocked his head slightly. "That's supposed to be a big secret, right up along there with the original recipe for Coca-Cola, and the exact method Colonel Sanders used to deep-fry his chickens-"

Gwen looked exasperated. "Will you please cut the crap here, wise guy? My life has just gotten completely turned upside down within the last 24 hours, don't you get that?! I never asked for any of this! I don't *want* any of this! In fact-"

"Believe it or not, I *do* know how you feel," Xander interrupted, his mind flashing back to the day Willow Rosenberg had inadvertently cursed him with all his memories of the future. "I never exactly asked to become what I am today, either."

Ms. Raiden calmed down a little. "The first day we met - you told me that, and I quote, "us freaks gotta stick together". So, was that just a load of hot air? Well, as far as I'm concerned it's time to put up or shut up, pal. What exactly do you know about all this? How did you *really* know what had happened to me?"

Xander glanced around. He thought about it, and came to a decision that he knew Cleburne would have a complete screaming fit about - if he ever learned of it. "Alexander Lavelle Harris at your service, ma'am." He then gallantly picked up Gwen's gloved hand, and kissed it like a 19th century gentleman.

The expert thief grinned, charmed by the old-fashioned gesture. But then the brunette got serious again, "Harris, huh? So that old guy in England was right all along, when he called you that name in the woods that day..."

Xander shrugged. "Travers and I go way back. He knew me - or at least *of* me - before I became all special..." Then he frowned. "No, actually, he didn't. Not in this world, anyway..."

"What? Never mind - look, how do you know what you know? How did you know I'd be meeting this Angel guy, all those months ago? What's the real deal here?"

The former slave looked at the thief and nascent seer, and spoke briefly about his past - his instincts saying she could be trusted with the truth. Gwen's eyes went wide as she heard parts of the story, and Xander finished up, "So you see, you weren't meant to meet Angel yet - not for over a year, I think. But as Cleburne likes to say, this entire world is virgin territory here - we're creating a brand-new future, all of us. Everything's changing, and you're gonna be part of that..."

Gwen's thoughts were chaotic. {Jesus. How the hell does this guy maintain his sanity? In his shoes, I'd have gone nuts long ago.} "Okay. Now, anything you can tell me about the people I'll be meeting with? I don't want to go in blind, here-"

Xander thought about it. "Angel's the one you'll have the most contact with, I'd guess. My advice is just be straight with him; and tell him right from the start there are secrets you can't reveal, that I told you to tell him you can't reveal. That ought to be enough to satisfy him."

"And his friends?"

Harris thought briefly, trying to remember who he'd heard about from Willow in that future history. "Well, there's Wes of course. Wesley Wyndham-Pryce; he used to be a Watcher like that guy Rupert Giles - whose diaries you, ah, copied? Apparently he's changed a lot from when I knew him personally, so I won't cloud your preconceptions - just be prepared for a lot of questions from him, in that annoying limey accent!"

He went on, "There's also Charles Gunn - he's the black guy who knows almost as much as Angel does, about my current situation. I knew him when I was living in LA; and once he's on your side, you can trust him with your life - Charlie has this whole big honor thing going. Especially when it comes to his little sister, Alonna..."

Xander frowned. "There was also a brunette woman called Fred...Winifred Burkle? Their resident genius, kinda like Willow. I'm not sure if she'll be there yet, though, I don't know when exactly she joined Angel's Avengers - so if you don't see her around, don't mention anything about her. And finally, there's..."

He sighed. "Cordelia Chase. The Vision Girl you're replacing. Be careful of her; odds are Queen C won't like you, right from the word go."

Gwen finally got to ask a question. "Why?"

The young man smirked. "How would *you* like it if another thief completely took over your operation, making you feel...useless? And just my opinion, but don't tell her she was destined to die in a few years - if Angel hasn't already mentioned it to her."

The Electra Girl nodded, that was understandable. Then she looked at Xander, "Anything else I should know?"

Harris shrugged. "I don't think so, why?"

"Back there," She nodded towards the room where Cleburne was still waiting. "Jarhead referred to Angelus, but you mention Angel. What's up with that?"

Xander sighed. This was going to be difficult. "Technically, they're the same person, in a way."

"How's that possible? Angelus sounded like someone really bad," Gwen commented.

"He is," Xander said at once. "Make no mistake about it, he's one of the worst monsters that have ever lived. If Angelus shows up, and tries to kill you - don't hesitate to fry him with a lightning bolt."

"Right. But, uh, Angel seems to be someone you trust implicitly, so what's the deal? A Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde thing going on?"

"Kind of. This is gonna take a while...so let me explain it all fully without interruption." Xander took a deep breath and told Gwen the story of Angel, Angelus and the soul curse. Without going into details, he also filled her in on the means by which Angel could lose his soul.

After Xander finished speaking, Gwen absent-mindedly scratched her forehead. "So if he has a moment of pure happiness, Angel loses his soul and Angelus comes out to play?" Xander nodded at Gwen's question. "Mental note to self, make sure that this Angel fella stays unhappy at all times..."

Gwen hesitated, before changing subjects. "There's something else I wanted to mention. That night when I encountered Ms. Chase at the museum...she knows you, doesn't she? Alexander Harris, I mean. And she doesn't know you're Alexander Hall now? She thinks you're dead?"

Xander tensed up. "That's all true, yeah. What of it?"

Ms. Raiden looked uncomfortable. "From what I heard when she was talking to someone I couldn't see, you two were...together, at some point. Well, that night I got the definite impression that she still thinks about you - that the woman hasn't, uh, resolved all her issues concerning you..."

There was a pause, as Harris stared at his companion in shock. {Cordy still feels *that* way about me?! And someone Gwen couldn't see? Wait up - are we talking about the First here? After all, it threatened to kill her back then in Georgia.}

"How do I handle it if - no, *when* - she finds out that I know you? That you were the one who sent me to LA?" Gwen asked.

Xander closed his eyes. The ugly truth was that the situation with Cordy was a lot more complicated, than that with Buffy or Willow; those two he could dismiss from his mind, at least for now, since he physically couldn't be near them for a few more years. But Cordelia was...different.

If he'd wanted to, the STW operative knew he could have had it out with the former cheerleader during the fall of 1999; and there would have been no aneurysm-causing headaches to prevent it. But Xander had left town before she'd arrived in LA, mainly because he'd wanted to escape to Canada, but also because he'd wanted to avoid his ex-girlfriend - for a variety of reasons.

Back then, even though the betrayal she had perpetrated by leaving him to die on the sidewalk that night was never far from his thoughts, Xander was also simultaneously aware of the betrayal *he* had committed - by cheating on her with Willow, in the senior year that had never taken place.

Which had led to Cordy being needlessly injured at Spike and Dru's old factory lair that night, just because he couldn't control his damn hormones. And despite Oz's assurances that Xander didn't need to apologize for that to anyone here and now since it hadn't actually happened, the memory of his actions still weighed heavily on the White Knight's conscience.

"Tell her..." Xander started to say, then stopped. "Tell her that as far as I'm concerned, this thing with you was nothing personal, just business. And as for the rest of it, say that I...that I'm...oh hell, don't tell her anything. She'll never believe whatever you'd have to say at that point, anyway!"

Gwen contemplated that, and shrugged; the odds were that that was true enough. "All right. So I guess as soon as I get those papers from New York, I'm done here?"

Xander nodded. "I guess so..." As the thief turned around to leave, he called out "Gwen?"

She stopped and looked back at him, expectantly. The man then said softly, "Be careful. Taking over Cordy's destiny like this, whatever happened that caused her to die by 2004 - it could happen to *you*, now. So don't trust anyone, except Angel and Charlie. Your life could depend on it."

Gwen Raiden said nothing, she just nodded once and left the room. And Xander was left all alone, briefly wondering if he would ever see her again.

**UC Sunnydale, Sunnydale, California. December 17, 2000**

Jonathan maneuvered his left arm, so that it rested on the desk in front of him. He was still getting used to the cast, as he sat in his dorm room located within Porter Hall.

A few days ago, Willow had been experimenting at the Magic Box; her intentions had been to create an instant sunlight spell, as part of the twelve-step program to restart practicing the craft after the Dark Willow incident.

Anya had been there berating her for stealing, as Giles had gone to Cleveland and left her in charge of the place, and Willow had been distracted for a second. Unfortunately, that careless second was all that was needed to release Olaf the troll-god from a crystal that had recently arrived at the shop.

Olaf was new to the 20th century. Also, he knew Anya as his ex-wife Aud, who as a human was the one who had turned him into a troll during 880 AD - after giving him boils on his penis - because he'd cheated on her while drunk.

Needless to say, Olaf was not in a good mood; wanting mead to drink, and babies to eat. The rampage that resulted had strained the Scoobies' resources, practically destroying the Bronze. And by the time Olaf had been tracked down back to the Magic Box, things had gotten worse.

Because Olaf had cornered Tara and Anya there. He knew Tara was a witch, and hated her on general principles; because it was a group of witches that had imprisoned him, over a thousand years ago. And he knew Anya was the one who had turned him into a troll...

So he was in the mood to make sure he wasn't jailed in that crystal again, and extract a little payback from Anya. The only one standing in his way was Jonathan, as Buffy and Willow were still en route to the place and Anya's boyfriend was knocked out cold.

Sensing that magic was useless, the tiny Mr. Levinson had physically tried to stand up to the giant creature, and quickly gotten his left arm broken for his trouble. Olaf had been impressed enough by his efforts though, that he had offered the male Scooby a choice. He would spare one of the girls, and kill the other. Which one would live and which one would die, was totally up to the wizard-in-training.

Jonathan had refused to make such a choice though, just as Xander would have in that other world. Grinning, Olaf had simply responded by slamming Jonathan around some more.

However, the guy managed to delay the mystical creature's plans long enough for Buffy and Willow to arrive. The Slayer and the troll-god had then fought ferociously enough that Willow, with her now-enhanced magic abilities, had been forced to banish him to a troll dimension - and thus save the day.

Of course, Jonathan still had a broken arm. So the women had taken him to the hospital to be treated for it, with a veritable bevy of female Scoobies hovering around the whole time to be *sure* he would be okay. The interns hadn't been able to believe it, wondering if he worked at the Playboy mansion or something...

{Man. How ironic is it that I've now been fully accepted into the Scooby gang, and all it took was a homicidal maniac and a broken arm? } Jonathan thought wistfully, as he powered up his computer.

In any case, he had finally been able to get some quiet time now, without any of his fellow Scoobies swooping in to insist that he not exert himself in any way.

Tara's student quickly hit the Internet connection on his computer. Even though he was getting to be fairly competent at the spellcasting gig, Jonathan still wanted to have something else to fall back on in contributing to the Scooby gang's efforts. So one area he was doing so in was research and intelligence.

Giles' books were good, but in some cases they were not the most recent source of information on strange things going on around the world. And the problem was, the G-man seemed inherently incapable of handling the Internet. That incident with Gingerbread monster and the Frisky Watchers Chat Room back in senior year, being a prime example...

Jonathan had learned that there was quite a bit of information on websites that pointed out things that most people refused to believe in. So he would surf those websites on a regular basis, to see if anything was developing that the Scoobies needed to be aware of. The man had also discovered several websites and chat rooms, concerning old friends of the Slayer and her buds.

Giles had even given him the web address for the Watchers Council. It was password protected of course, and Giles had long since lost his password privileges, but the young man had finally become able to gain access to several parts of the Watchers' database.

Jonathan eagerly perused whatever information he could find out. Something had happened in England a few weeks ago that had upset quite a few Watchers, but the details were way too encrypted for him to figure out what it was. {Oh well, maybe something else, then.}

After the Watchers' website, he browsed through several sites run by independent demon hunters and the like. He made some notes for future reference; Jonathan hoped to become able to spot patterns to head off future troubles, after doing this often enough.

He then brought up the pages dealing with Angel. The would-have-been member of the Trio always seemed to get a kick outta visiting the chat rooms he had found, concerning the ensouled vampire. Jonathan hadn't mentioned them to Buffy and the others yet; he was unsure of the reaction that would receive, considering the history the Scoobies had with their former comrade. So he just kept track of things, for anything that would require intervention from Buffy and her friends.

Once he had finished with that series of web pages, Jonathan opened up the browser again to the latest thing he had found on the 'Net; www dot Timetripper dot com.

He had come across it a few weeks back. And what it talked about seemed to border on complete science fiction, so Jonathan viewed everything there with an extremely skeptical eye. Well, to be honest, the former high school nerd viewed it more as lively entertainment than a legitimate information source...

Because the webmasters claimed that the United States government had captured a time-traveller from the future, and was using him to gain geopolitical advantage in current world events. It also claimed he was now traveling around the world, helping in the fight against evil. Jonathan had snorted when he first read the claim, {Don't these guys know that quantum physics clearly says time travel is impossible?}

He clicked on the 'What's new' icon, to see what their latest fantastic claim was. {Betcha it's gonna be something really unbelievable.}

And Jonathan wasn't disappointed, as he quickly read the info on the screen.

_**TIMETRIPPER VISITS ROME AND DRINKS FROM THE HOLY GRAIL!**_

_The Timetripper was recently in Rome to meet with high-level officials of the Catholic Church. And why, you may ask, was he in the Eternal City? Because he did something no one else has done, in almost 2,000 years._

_He took a long, cool drink from the actual Holy Grail._

_That's right, boys and girls. The cup from the Last Supper was uncovered by our hero. He took a drink from it, and according to witnesses the earth shook when he did so. Our information is unclear as to where exactly in Europe the Grail was, but we do know that once he was done the Timetripper hurried to Rome - where he met with the men wearing the red hats and black suits, to describe it to them and be debriefed. He even went so far as to meet with a top artist, and help him draw up a sketch of the cup._

_Now we can't tell you how we did it, but we got our hands on a copy of the sketch. Here it is:_

Below that was a picture of a plain wooden cup. Jonathan chuckled to himself, {I swear, this is even better than reading the _National Enquirer_! }

He quickly printed out a hard copy of the page, to add to the folder he had of this sort of stuff. Mr. Levinson then set it aside to flip through, whenever he wanted to relax or really needed a good laugh - to forget about life on the Hellmouth for a while.

**The private office of Lilah Morgan, Wolfram & Hart building, Los Angeles. December 20, 2000**

Lilah sighed, and leaned back in frustration. It had been over a month now since her firm had set the trap for Xander Harris, and yet - he hadn't shown up. Lilah had been sure that once word had gotten out what had befallen Faith's soul, the young man would immediately head to Los Angeles to try and free it.

However, there had not been even the slightest sniff at the trap that the evil lawyers had set up. And now Lilah's patience from all the time she had spent trying to deal with Angel and the other do-gooders out there, had worn very thin indeed.

Holland Manners had made a point of asking her about the Harris project and its status, at the last staff meeting. Of course, he knew perfectly well there hadn't been any progress, he just wanted to let Lilah know that time was running out for her. { Office politics... }

The brunette woman was just grateful that Lindsey MacDonald was having so much trouble dealing with Angel. And she suspected her male counterpart would do something drastic soon, given how everyone knew that Darla had gone 'rogue', so to speak, in that she seemed to refuse to play the role that Wolfram & Hart had resurrected her for; that is, driving Angel over the edge.

For it was the firm's official policy not to want the Champion dead, but rather...dark.

This setback seemed to take up more of the middle management's time than Lilah's project did. Still, she knew it was only a matter of time before the Senior Partners would want an accounting for the resources used to entrap Harris. The bean counters would see to that, if no one else.

{I still can't believe that the guy now has a website devoted to him. Timetripper? What moron came up with *that*? } Lilah thought acidly. She'd had almost had a coronary when she had heard the nickname for the first time.

The door of her office then opened up, and her assistant walked in hesitantly. "Ms. Morgan, the Washington branch office has contacted us."

"Why, the SEC or IRS take out another client?" the female lawyer snarled.

Ever since the first attempt at obtaining Xander Harris, Wolfram & Hart's Washington D.C. branch had received the brunt of the U.S. government's ire. And the clients had paid the price for that; Lilah had heard rumors that the Senior Partners were considering closing down that branch of the firm, unless something turned around soon.

"No ma'am, they picked up a piece of information that may relate to the Harris project," the newcomer replied nervously

She immediately gave the assistant her full attention. "And that information is..."

"Well, they're working a divorce case involving a middle-level CIA official..." That surprised Lilah, she figured that the government would make sure no one of importance in their ranks had to deal with the firm.

The assistant hastened on, when he saw her glare. "We're representing the husband, who is divorcing her. He tells us that the official has been complaining at home for the last few months, about a decision made by her superiors - to hide information from an agent."

"That's not exactly uncommon in the intelligence field!" Lilah snapped.

"Yes, but it is when the official, after having drunk a few too many screwdrivers, says it involves the agent's lover returning from the dead."

Suddenly, it all became clear to Lilah. {Of *course* Harris hasn't taken the bait - on account of he doesn't even know it's there! They're hiding this from him, because they're afraid to lose him. The upper echelons don't trust him enough, obviously. Well, I can use this.} She leaned back in her chair.

"So, all we need to do is get word to him personally. Hmmm, let's see - how we would go about doing that? Right, we'll need someone...out of the ordinary to let Mr. Harris in on the secret..."

**Rural South Carolina. December 24, 2000 **

The SUV made its way down the country road on Christmas Eve. Xander shifted his weight, trying to get comfortable - he was still a little unsure of what was going on, he just knew this wasn't a mission.

Earlier in the week, Cleburne had called the apartment that Xander and Oz had been staying in for the past few days in Cincinnati, Ohio. The senior Siberian had told them to pack today for a trip lasting about three days. They were to also include some clothes appropriate for a formal setting, but he hadn't explained why.

Cleburne had then showed up about two hours previously to pick the guys up. The trio had then driven across the Ohio River to Cincinnati Airport, which oddly enough was in Kentucky instead of Ohio...

There they had boarded a military version of a Lear jet, upon which the Wizard and an auburn-haired teenage girl were already passengers. Cleburne had introduced Xander and Oz to Bethany Chaulk, the teenage girl in question.

Xander surmised that she was another paranormal person working with Siberian Trip Wire, despite the usual lack of information. Both Hollins and Cleburne had not gone into details as to her background or abilities - however, Cleburne had told both Oz and Xander beforehand not to do anything to upset her, if they wanted to keep all their body parts intact.

The plane then flew to Spartanburg, South Carolina, a city that Xander hadn't even known existed prior to his time with STW. A SUV had been waiting there for them. And after they had loaded up their luggage, the group had started driving to their unknown destination.

The first part of the trip, of all things, had been an argument about what music to listen to. Cleburne had wanted to put in some Johnny Cash CDs. The Wizard had objected to that, wanting to listen to NPR. Oz had piped up, suggesting maybe something in the genre of the Bay City Rollers.

And *that* had not been well received by either of the Siberians. Bethany had asked about listening to something from the Indigo Girls; and Cleburne had instantly joked about the chances of finding *them* on a radio station in upstate South Carolina.

The four of them had heatedly debated the point, with Xander staying well out of the discussion, until an agreement had been reached of listening to Christmas carols on the car radio.

They had driven a while, listening to the music of the season the whole time, along the Interstate in the night, then turned onto a series of two lane roads. Xander had slept somewhat, during the trip, and he roused himself when he felt the SUV turn onto a gravel road.

He peered out into the night sky. At the end of the gravel driveway, the young man could make out the lights of a large farmhouse with several cars and trucks parked in front of it. Cleburne soon pulled up to the front of the house, as several adults came out onto the porch.

The group got out of the SUV, as an older woman and man came down the steps. The old man spoke up first. "Joshua. You're a little late," he observed dryly.

"Sorry, there was a delay at the Cincinnati airport with the air traffic," Joshua answered him, as father and son quickly hugged. "Mother, I missed you," he hugged the older woman as well.

Xander could not help staring in shock, at the spectacle of the in-your-face soldier acting like the 'prodigal son'. Cleburne's mom said simply, "Should have called, sweetheart, I could have had something warm ready for you and your friends to eat." She then looked at the others. "Irving, welcome back. Oh, give me a hug, boy!"

"Mrs. Cleburne," the Wizard said with a smile, as he hurried up and hugged her. "It's really good to be back here."

The old woman looked at the others. "Josh, you going to introduce us to your friends?"

Joshua nodded. "Yes, Irving you both know already. Ah, this is Bethany Chaulk, she's a new student at the academy with Irving. This is Alexander Hall and Daniel Osbourne, although they go by Xander and Oz; they're civilian contractors who are currently working with me. Bethany, Xander, Oz - this is my mother Elaine, and my father Daniel Cleburne."

Everyone exchanged greetings. "We're glad to have you all here, don't worry - we have plenty of room for you all. When Joshua said that you couldn't go home for Christmas and were wondering if you could spend it with us, well, gosh - there was just no way we could turn you away!" Elaine declared.

Daniel spoke up, "You all had better hurry up and take your bags inside. You have about a hour to get everything in, and then get changed for the late Christmas Eve service at the church."

"Right, Dad," Joshua nodded. "Come on, you two, front and center - help me unload!" he said to Xander and Oz.

"You didn't tell us we were spending Christmas with your family," Xander whispered to Cleburne behind the SUV as they unloaded the luggage. "And hey, we didn't bring anything for them. They'll think we're cheapskates!"

Cleburne handed a duffel bag to Xander. "Don't worry, both of you got them something real nice. Now hurry up, Dad always wants to be at the church for the service at least 15 minutes early - so he can grab the rear pew."

"Don't you mean the front pew?" Oz asked, as he picked up the bag he had packed.

Cleburne laughed at that. "Clearly, you've never been to a Presbyterian church service before!" The voices of the others could be heard from the front porch, which wrapped around the house. Xander could clearly tell that Hollins had been here before.

"What about this academy you mentioned?" the so-called Timetripper asked.

"My family thinks the Wizard and Ms. Chaulk are students at a private boarding school, one that the Marines have an ROTC program with. Hollins has been spending the holiday with us for the past five years, you see - and I had to tell them something! They think he's an orphan, and that part is actually true. We'll tell them that Bethany is in the same situation, if it crops up."

"Hurry up, son!" Daniel called from the front porch. "After the service, you'll probably want to hit the hay early. After all, Josh, you're going to have to get up with the sunrise..."

Cleburne, lugging several bags, led Xander and Oz up to the front porch. "Why am I getting up early tomorrow?"

Daniel chuckled. "*Someone* has to play Santa Claus for the Jaycees when they go and deliver their gift baskets to the needy." He saw the Marine's face, "Oh, by the way, did I forget to mention I volunteered you to play Santa for the Jaycees this year?"

**The Cleburne family farm, South Carolina. December 25, 2000**

Xander leaned back in the chair on the front porch in the late afternoon, and just relaxed. {Now *this* is the life. Just for a short while, I can pretend that I'm not being hunted by everybody in this world, from the Council - to those evil LA lawyers! }

The service the night before had been relatively short, and he had been able to get to bed well before midnight. {Good thing too, never knew how damn noisy a farm can be, even if it's still completely dark outside!}

When Xander had gotten up, Cleburne, his father and his brothers had already left to do the Jaycees charity thing. And thinking about it, Xander was actually kinda sad he had missed out on seeing the senior Siberian in a Santa Claus costume.

Harris had found upon waking up that Elaine Cleburne had cooked a huge breakfast for the extended Cleburne family, several of whose members came to the house from nearby houses over the course of the morning. Xander and Oz had discovered that the man they knew as a very nasty fighter in a combat situation, had several nieces and nephews eagerly begging for the opening of the presents that were all under the tree in the living room.

All of the children seemed to know Hollins. Xander watched as several of them picked Hollins' brain, for ideas about school projects. Irving, in turn, actually played with them - and for once, acted like the child he physically appeared to be. Several of the older nephews subtly flirted with Bethany Chaulk; but Xander suspected that the word was in the family to behave themselves around her.

A little bit before lunch, the older male Cleburnes had returned and Xander had been treated to the sight he had been hoping to see; Mother Hen wearing a Santa Claus costume. {Oh, man. I was utterly nuts not to bring a camera! }

Xander had chuckled out loud, which had earned him an instant glare from Joshua and an unspoken warning to never speak of it again. {Oh, please! He thinks that's gonna work on me? I grew up with the glares from Giles, like all the time! Cleburne ought to sit down and learn at the feet of the master, if he ever wants me to take him seriously.}

Lunch had been a quick affair. Xander had marveled at the number of Cleburne family members that had shown up for it. Afterwards, the nieces and nephews got their wish as the packages were torn open by them with great abandon. Cleburne had been right, Xander and Oz had gotten several nice things for the elder Cleburnes and the other members of the Cleburne family.

They had both been surprised to have received gifts themselves, both from the Siberians and the Cleburnes, as had Bethany Chaulk.

Xander leaned back, Mrs. Cleburne had promised a huge dinner later on. Xander had to admit he was looking forward to it, with great enthusiasm. She was a gifted cook. Daniel Cleburne had taken Joshua and two other sons with him to take care of the farm's business before dinner. Xander suppressed the chuckle that both he and Oz had let escape earlier, when they'd pictured Colonel Cleburne milking cows.

This was the kind of Christmas he had never personally experienced before. The closest he had ever come to this sort of thing, was when Willow and he would watch 'A Charlie Brown Christmas' on TV. And that was only one part of Christmas Day in Sunnydale for him, every year - here, the entire day of Christmas was made up of such moments.

Then Xander paused in his mental musings, suddenly realizing what today was.

It was the last decent Christmas Day he had ever had, before Joyce had died and Buffy had leapt to her death and Spike had...

Harris instantly cut off that line of thought, suddenly remembering the grin on the platinum-blond vamp's face that night - when he'd gotten clobbered, kidnapped, and sent to Hell. Still, Xander could not help wondering, {What's going on in Sunnydale this Christmas? }

TBC...


	20. Chapter 20

**Part Twenty**

**1630 Revello Drive, Sunnydale, California. December 25, 2000**

"Rupert, can you check on the green beans?" Joyce called out to the other adult in the Summers kitchen, as she dodged Dawn early that evening.

"Sorry, Mom!" the brunette teen yelled as she headed out the door to the living room, carrying a can of soft drink as she did. "Willow and I have a bunch of videos we're going through, before dinner!"

Joyce balanced the dish in her hand, as she placed it down onto the kitchen table. "I swear, I am going to *have* to cut back on that girl's sugar intake. I shudder to think what she would be like, if she drank coffee!"

Giles looked up from the oven. "Green beans seem to be coming along fine, Joyce. And if you want, I can get some sugar-free cola for Dawn?"

Joyce smiled at the Englishman's joke. "Now that's an idea! If you have some, we'll slip it to her at dinner..."

During her recovery from the surgery, the blonde woman had come to rely upon the former Watcher quite a bit. He had been at the Summers house every day doing errands, chores or helping out as best he could; leaving the Magic Box in Anya's more-than-capable hands, who had decided to defer her college studies for a year and become a full-time businesswoman.

And all this had definitely unnerved the guest that had arrived, almost immediately after Joyce's surgery...

Mr. Hank Summers.

Hank had gotten word of Joyce's condition, and once he'd had the chance he had traveled to Sunnydale. He had settled into his ex-wife's household, wanting to help Joyce and his kids as best as he could; as he had received an anonymous message saying that he better not screw up, or else certain...indiscretions might be made public.

But the guy had quickly come to feel like a fifth wheel, with his own relatives. Dawn had stepped up, and taken over a lot of chores in the house. She also saw to all Joyce's needs; the middle-aged woman actually could have stayed in bed the whole time, from all the attention the brunette girl had been showering on her.

And anything Dawn couldn't handle, Giles was there for. All the heavy chores around the house he had taken care of, including the yard work. Buffy had been shocked one day, when she had come home and discovered Giles mowing the lawn. She hadn't even realized that Giles *owned* a pair of Bermuda shorts...

Hank had then thought he could assist at Joyce's place of business. But when he had gone there, the man had been surprised to discover that Buffy actually seemed to have the place running along quite smoothly. Between Buffy and Regina, Joyce's assistant, the gallery hadn't had any major problems that he could solve.

And when Hank had gone to examine the Summers monetary situation, thinking that he could use his stock market knowledge to help out *there* at least, he had discovered that his daughter's friend Anya had completely overhauled the finances of the family. She was even doing a fairly decent job of investing a small bit of it. Hank Summers had made a note to keep an eye on Anya; you never knew where the next great investment banker might come from.

Even his fatherly role seemed to have been co-opted by the former school librarian of his eldest daughter. Hank wasn't blind, he could see the way Buffy acted around the Brit; and he was saddened to think of when *he* had been the one the girls looked to for guidance and support like that.

So when it was obvious Joyce's recovery was clearly taking hold, during the second week of December, he had finally given up. Hank had gone back home to Los Angeles, promising to keep in touch. And so far he was doing so quite admirably, to the pleasant surprise of the Summers women.

Anyway, today Joyce had decided - against the protests of Giles and her daughters - to cook Christmas dinner for the whole Scooby gang. They and their respective boyfriend in one case had been invited, and were now all present and accounted for.

Joyce Summers had a house full of hungry demon hunters celebrating the holidays - and so, she was almost running herself ragged in the kitchen.

"Mrs. Summers, hi - I brought some coleslaw. Uh, where should I put it?" Jonathan entered the kitchen through the back door, balancing a bowl with plastic wrap on top of it in his right hand.

Joyce made a beeline for him. "Jonathan, give that to me right now! You didn't need to bring anything, I have everything covered..." She took the bowl from the male Scooby, and placed it on the table. "Go out and visit with the others."

Jonathan glanced at the door to the living room with some apprehension. "Is he here?" the guy asked nervously.

Giles nodded. "Yes, Ms. Jenkins did bring him with her. Still, since it is the Christmas season, no doubt we can forgive his...eccentricities," Giles said, referring to Anya's boyfriend.

Levinson swallowed and steeled himself. "Easy for you to say, he doesn't expect *you* to have every comic book in the world memorized..." With that, Jonathan trudged into the living room to meet the other Scoobies. "Hello guys," he called out.

"Jonathan!" "Hey there," "John-boy..." That last greeting was from Dawn. The younger Summers girl definitely had a sense of humor, that was eerily reminiscent of a certain class clown...

Buffy and Tara were in the dining room, setting the table. Willow and Dawn were on the couch, watching holiday specials on the TV, and Anya was helping the others in the dining room. Jonathan mentally sighed to himself, as he saw Anya's boyfriend making a beeline for him.

Sometimes, it kind of offended the guy that Anya, the first time they had ever met, had said that he wasn't what she was looking for in terms of a mate - only for her to turn around, and date the one and only...Andrew Wells.

"Jonathan! Great to see you, fellow padawan. How's the arm doing?" He pointed at the cast on Jonathan's left arm.

"Doing well, I guess. It itches a lot, but I've learned to deal with it." The short guy then looked around, to see if any of the girls was in need of someone to talk to.

"So, did you get the latest issue of Wonder Woman yet? 'Cause I gotta tell you, Sparky, that comic is just gettin' better and better. Deanna Troi, eat your heart out! They really need to make a new movie about her, maybe get some hot young rising actress - ooh! Like Cordelia Chase from that toothpaste commercial! - to play Wonder Woman..."

Jonathan looked at Andrew with a tiny bit of amazement. He was personally a little surprised that Andrew had said 'hot young rising actress'; as he and the Scoobies had some doubts about Andrew's true sexual orientation.

The so-called geek also decided to not mention that he had known Cordy in high school, as there was no reason to invite further commentary on that subject from Mr. Wells. He then spied something out of the corner of his eye...

"Willow, you brought Amy!" the male Scooby declared, thankful for the excuse to head off Andrew's talk of superheroines.

Because Jonathan knew that at some point, the other guy would want to talk about superheroes and which one had the best costume - and in this world, he no longer had the fascination with Master Yoda, Captain Picard and Wolverine that he once did.

Willow looked up. "Yeah, it just didn't seem right leaving her all alone in the dorm room during the holidays. Even though she is human-shape challenged now, she still has feelings!" Amy, in rat form, just ran on the wheel in her cage as it sat on the living room table.

At that moment, Joyce entered the dining room carrying a turkey. "Come on, everyone! Dinner's ready..."

**One hour later**

Dinner had been great, and all the Scoobies were now in the living room relaxing as the TV channels played several holiday specials. Images of Charlie Brown and the Peanuts gang flickered across the screen, reminding Willow of childhood innocence - and the little boy she had shared it with.

All of a sudden - the screen changed to a timeless image of the dog called Snoopy, that was dancing. Both Willow and Dawn squealed in delight at the same time, "Snoopy dance!"

Everyone else in the room was amazed, as the two of them jumped up and started doing an impromptu dance in the middle of the living room. Both girls did a very good imitation of the dance they remembered Xander doing all those years ago, every Christmas.

Buffy looked on in wide-eyed wonder. She knew exactly what they were doing, having seen the original twice before. Jonathan, although never having witnessed it, knew enough to hazard a guess. The others though had no idea of the significance of what they were witnessing.

"Girls? What are you doing?" Joyce asked, while trying to suppress a grin. Others amongst the Scoobies weren't as strong as her, and were smiling from ear to ear.

"Snoopy dance, Mom! You gotta try it!" Dawn called out.

Joyce still looked a little confused. Dawn hurried to explain, "Every Christmas, Willow and Xander would watch 'A Charlie Brown Christmas' together. And I remember how Xander would entertain Willow, by doing the Snoopy dance..." Dawn was so busy dancing, that she didn't notice the pained look that briefly crossed Buffy's face at the mention of her old friend.

"Yeah, Mrs. Summers. He'd do it every year, and I couldn't help myself - I always laughed, he did it so funny..." Willow, while replying to Joyce, had unintentionally moved to close to Dawn. They then bumped into each other, and both of them fell down in a tangled heap.

Willow and Dawn looked at each other in surprise for a few seconds, and then burst out into laughter that most of the others joined in on. Tara moved to help her lover up, and Dawn scrambled up by herself.

"You know, I-I miss him..."

Everyone in the room turned to Buffy, in response to her statement. She looked back at them and said, "Xander. What, you think I forgot about him? No, I remember him and miss him. I wish I had been able to make things right with him, before he died..."

Dawn instantly got a catty look on her face, one that would not have been out of place on Cordelia's - make that *Queen C's* - face. "Gee Buffy, you could have fooled me. After all, you really had the whole 'Xander is evil' thing going for a while there!" she snapped.

"Hey - I was upset, it's understandable. After all, he lied to me about that whole soul deal with Willow!" Buffy snapped back.

"Oh, come on Buffy..." Dawn started to say.

"Dawn? That's enough, "Joyce said, hoping to head off the upcoming shitstorm.

But the brunette teenager kept right on going, ignoring her mother. "You were upset because he lied about that? Why? Angel didn't go to Hell or anything, although he *should* have - after all the people he killed, when he was evil! That night Angelus came into your room and drew your picture, what if he'd killed me or Mom as a hello present?"

Buffy and Joyce stared at her in shock. {Oh my God.} They both thought, as the duo realized the baby of the family was now anything but that - if such things were able to occur to her.

"Anyway, back then Angel didn't get killed, or even hurt. Unlike some people he's still going strong, kicking up a fuss in Los Angeles. Remember that, how he left town right after Xander got blown up? So much for the love of his life, huh. I heard he simply walked away that day, just before Mom and I arrived back in town. But then you'd know all about that part of it, wouldn't you Buffy?" Dawn was clearly getting worked up.

"Look Dawn, there were other things going on then. You just don't understand-" was the reply from her big sister, who was getting uncomfortable on account of all the stares from the studio audience.

But Dawn wasn't going to let her off that easily. "I'm 14, nearly 15, that whole 'you're too young to understand' excuse doesn't cut it anymore! And Xander dying that way..." her voice trailed off for a second, it had taken a while - but nowadays she had come to accept Xander's death.

"The whole time ever since the end of your junior year, Xander believed that you hated him - and he had good reason for that, didn't he? Did you even *once* really try to apologize to him, before he disappeared? I mean, after all - you three left him as vampire chow outside the Bronze, that night!"

Giles drew a quick breath, he knew this was about to get really bad. He glanced at Willow, who had gone deathly pale. But Rupert could also see Buffy's face starting to redden...

The former Watcher then saw Joyce about to break it up, but she stopped when he slowly shook his head at her. Joyce then cogitated, {He's right, they've got to move past this one day. And I guess there's no time like the present, even if it *is* Christmas.}

Her eldest daughter said heatedly, "Look Dawn, I'll admit that things got *way* out of control during those few insane-o days. But I never intended for Xander to get hurt, let alone killed like he did at Graduation! I was angry that night during 1998, and I think I had the right to be pissed over the whole Angel deal - 'cause Xander betrayed our trust, any way you want to paint it. Still, I shouldn't have done what I did. I should have least made sure he got back to his house that night. It's something I would have done for my worst enemy, like Harmony for example..."

Buffy drew in a deep breath before continuing, "I regret what I did that night, and I'm sure Willow and Cordy do too. I'm uncomfortable about my actions..."

Dawn snorted at the word 'uncomfortable', but Buffy just ignored her. "It's one of the greatest regrets of my life. It makes me question if I really deserve any happiness, or if I'm as good a person as I want to believe I am-"

Dawn glared at her sibling, furious at what she'd heard and standing with her hands on her hips. "Damn it, Buffy! Listen to yourself. You've gone and made Xander's suffering and death all about *you*!? How it affected you. How it made you feel. That's all you care about? That's just so like you! You really must believe that the world revolves around your bottle-blonde head!"

Andrew, sitting next to Anya, whispered to his girlfriend just a little too loudly, "I knew it!" That earned him glares from Anya, Buffy, Dawn and Willow, and so the guy quickly slunk deep into the seat he was sitting in, his face turning red.

Buffy turned back to Dawn. "Look, Dawn, that's out of line. Granted you're not a little kid anymore, but you still don't understand how things were that night-"

"And that gives you the right to turn your back on a friend whenever you feel like it, whenever they do something you disapprove of? Oh, Lord help me if I forget to get you a birthday present next month!"

Dawn suddenly got a *look* on your face. "Come to think of it, did you ever get Xander a birthday gift? Or even know when his birthday was?"

A momentary look of shame flashed across Buffy's face. Dawn's face reddened some more, "Oh come on!" she shouted out. "You mean after all the attention he showered on you from day one? The gifts, the...he was always following you around like a little puppy, one that would have died for you. I know you kept that bracelet he gave you at the start of sophomore year, it's in your nightstand - and you still wear it sometimes."

"Hey, how do you know where that is? Have you been going through my stuff again?" Buffy demanded.

Dawn didn't respond to the question from her sister. "Well, obviously, that's a big no on the 'gifts from you' thing. But how about knowing when his birthday was? Come on, he was one of your two closest friends for two years, and Xander brought you back from the dead that one time. You have to know his birthday, right?"

Buffy concentrated for a few seconds. {How did I get myself into this mess? I was just saying I missed the guy! } The ensuing silence was uncomfortable for all those in the living room.

"Okay, tell you what Buffy, I'll make it easy for you. What *month* was his birthday? Come on, sis, one in twelve chance of getting it right - even if you just guess," Dawn glared at Buffy as she said the last little bit.

"April!" Buffy shouted back. She was definitely getting angry now, as no one likes being criticized this way. "I know his birthday was in April-"

Dawn continued glaring at her sister, though. "Tell me you didn't know that because it's engraved on his tombstone..."

Buffy paled a little bit at that. That was exactly the reason why she knew. And Dawn could tell that from Buffy's face. "When he was here, even before you abandoned him, you never bothered to find out - did you? The great Slayer couldn't stoop so low, as to actually find out the birthday of one of the two real friends she had. Boy, I'm feelin' the love here..."

"That's not true, Dawn! You know I love you..." {Even though apparently, you're this great big magical ball of energy underneath that human skin- } Buffy thought hurriedly. "I love Mom, I love all of you. I loved Xander-"

"You got a real funny way of showing it. Leaving him for dead that way. Oh, remember this? 'We can never talk of Xander again'," She mimicked Buffy's voice in a high-pitched tone almost perfectly.

"I never said that!" Buffy shouted at Dawn.

"Uh, Buffy, I'm sorry - but you sorta did. You made it real clear about your feelings regarding Xander, at the time. You were furious with him," Willow suddenly spoke up. "Whenever Cordy or I mentioned his name, you got all huffy and changed the subject. He was like a huge elephant in the room, and not just any elephant, but a huge pink one. Wait! Maybe fuscia with purple polka dots, or something..."

Willow's voice trailed off, as she realized that the others were staring at her. "Well, um, it's just that I-I never felt I could really talk about Xander, and what happened that night - because you absolutely didn't want anyone to talk about him. Buffy, do you remember how you reacted when Tara wanted to talk about Xander, back in July?"

Buffy felt threatened and insecure, now that Willow had spoken up. And she was the Slayer, so she did what she normally did when she felt threatened and insecure - she attacked.

"Hey, I never once said there was any kind of rule of not talking about him!" Buffy hesitated for a second. "Well, okay, there was that short time for a few weeks after I found out about the soul curse...but you'll recall that when senior year started, I went with you and Cordy to talk to him. Xander wasn't any sort of taboo subject then! We tried to talk to him-"

"Lot of good that did," Dawn muttered. She remembered hearing all about it that night, after Xander had told the three girls to go to hell that lunchtime.

Buffy continued on, "That senior year up until Spike and Dru did their kidnapping thing, we talked about him, about how to ask him to come back into the group. I certainly wasn't stifling any free speech then, was I? And when he came back from that hell dimension, we also talked about him. Remember, long freewheeling discussions about what to do? Remember those, Willow?"

"Yeah, Buffy, but all those conversations - they all revolved around getting him involved again with the Scooby gang. Uh...we never once talked about what happened on the street that night..."

"Hey!" Buffy snapped out. "Don't make me out as the big villain here! And if we're gonna be going down memory lane like this, remember what you and Cordy said when we saw him staring at us in the Bronze, that particular night?"

Willow looked away ashamed as Buffy finished up, "You called him a "jealous asshole", and Cordelia called him a "lying bastard"! And later, I wasn't the only one who found Xander outside the Bronze-"

"Yeah, there was that vampire you missed," Dawn snapped.

"Shut up, Dawn!" Buffy snarled at her sister, she turned back to Willow. "The point is, that night you and Cordelia didn't seem all that guilt-ridden by what you did. So don't lay this all out on me..."

Willow looked pained at Buffy's comments. "You're right. Both Cordy and I did something horrible that night. Still..."

Buffy wasn't going to let up own her counter-offensive that easily. "You thought it was horrible, did you? Well, you certainly didn't act like it that evening. You turned your back and walked away too. And let's not forget some of the things you said that night afterwards! 'Maybe he'll do some thinking down there in the gutter!' Remember that, Willow?" Buffy almost shouted.

"Buffy, that's uncalled for!" Tara came to her lover's defense. She started forward, only to be stopped by Willow's hand on her arm.

"No, Tara, she's right. I said and did horrible things that night. I admit that. And I admit that not because doing them made me a bad person, I don't regret them because they made me feel bad afterwards, I say that because they were the wrong thing to do! It took me a while to realize that, I mean - the next day I was all torn up, because I couldn't get Xander on the phone or find him. I was actually thinking he would still be around, waiting to apologize to us. God, how thickheaded was I back then..."

Willow looked down at the floor. "You know - the whole summer before our senior year, I wrote him and tried calling him. When he didn't reply, I actually thought he was just too ashamed to call us at first. And I thought if I could reassure him, he would come back into the fold and apologize for everything and beg for - ask for - our forgiveness-"

Buffy was still in her attack mode. "He never even tried to defend his actions. He should have taken the first step!" she declared.

"Uh, you wouldn't let him," Jonathan suddenly spoke up. The Scoobies turned to face him. "It's none of my business, I know, but the fact is that he *tried* to talk to you guys before the vampire attack outside the Bronze. Why do you think he was watching you all then? He was hopin' to try and explain himself to you."

Buffy folded her arms across her chest, and glared at Jonathan. "And how do *you* know all that?" she demanded.

"He told me. I mean, I've mentioned it before now that before he vanished - we talked a bit. He wasn't the Xander of old, yeah, but he wasn't the dark and solitary 'Magneto' clone he was when he came back from that hell dimension either. He told me quite a lot about what goes on around Sunnydale..."

Jonathan paused for a second, and took a deep breath before continuing. "At first, I thought he was crazy, but then I saw...things - and figured out that he wasn't." He looked at Buffy, half in fear and half in sorrow.

"The rest of the student body knew as well. Not the full details, of course, but they knew there were nasty things roaming about in the night. They just weren't ready to call them vampires. They also knew about Xander, and that night at the Bronze."

Buffy was glaring so hard at Jonathan, that it surprised Giles how the male Scooby didn't just burst into flames. "What do you mean?"

Jonathan gulped. He still had a little fear of Buffy's temper. "Well - at senior Prom, a few of the students talked about giving you something for being Class Protector, an award of some sort - something kitschy."

The Slayer looked confused. "What are you talking about? I wasn't given anything at the Prom that night!"

The short guy nodded. "I know. Because once the suggestion was made, several of the other students on the committee shot down the idea. They said..." Jonathan stopped.

"Go on!" Buffy now half-pleaded and half-growled.

Jonathan actually took a step back, before continuing. "They said a *real* class protector wouldn't have left Xander to be attacked by a crazed gang member, who was high on PCP, like that."

Buffy's face went white. "What? But, but - they can't have known what I was going through then, they had no right to say something like that..."

"Xander did," Dawn declared loudly.

Buffy stared at Dawn, and then looked at the others in the room. She wasn't getting the support she expected. Buffy felt self-doubt growing in her, but she refused to admit it out loud. "I can't believe this. Attacking me personally for something I didn't do alone, and by the way guys - thanks for ruining Christmas!" With that, she turned around and stormed out of the living room.

**Twenty minutes later**

Buffy leaned back in the chair, staring up at the stars. She had been sitting out here on the porch, ever since the argument in the living room. {Could they possibly have a point? } the Slayer thought forlornly, for what seemed like the 30th time ever since she had gone outside. {Am I *really* that self-centered?}

Buffy's thoughts were cut short though, when she heard the back door open. She turned and saw her mother coming out. Buffy stood up to face Joyce, "Mom, before you start with the lecture, I know you think I was out of line in there but you have to understand-"

Joyce silenced her by holding up her hand. "Buffy, please. It's Christmas, and this isn't the time for that. I just want to tell you, before you say anything else, read this." She handed over a folded piece of paper to Buffy. The blonde college girl took it, and looked at her mother with a questioning look.

"I know that you believe you never made it right with him, honey. But at the end of the day, when all was said and done...while Xander was certainly angry with you - and rightly so - I don't think that deep down, he really hated or despised you. Read that, and then come back inside when you're ready." Joyce hugged her daughter, and then went back inside her house.

Buffy watched her leave in puzzlement. She then unfolded the paper, and started to read.

Started to read the first letter Xander had sent to her Watcher.

"_Dear Giles..." _Buffy quickly read through the first three paragraphs. {This is a letter to Giles. From Xander!? Written before he died, but mailed afterwards. So why does Mom have it? }

Then Buffy read the next part.

"_And what is that, you ask? Simple. Joyce Summers was born in 1958, and she died on February 21st, 2001..."_

Buffy stopped breathing for a second, almost fainting from the shock. {Mom dies, in like two months!? NO! No. NO! } Buffy, already emotional from the scene earlier in the house, started to feel her sanity shredding apart.

But after about 30 seconds, the Chosen One had recovered enough that she willed herself to start reading again. The blonde Slayer read about the tumor being discovered, and the surgery to treat it. The seeming recovery, followed by...

{Me finding Mom dead on the couch! The very same couch we were sitting on, earlier tonight? Oh, Jesus.}

Buffy had to stop again, and fight down the sick feeling she had. She actually felt like throwing up! The Slaymaster-General quickly sat down on the steps, and placed her head between her knees in an attempt to resume control of herself.

{I don't believe this! Look at me, I fight demons and vampires every night, have done ever since I was 15 years old - but this one letter gets me completely unhinged. Wait, why am I even surprised? Xander always could get to me, when he needed to.} Buffy just sat there for what seemed like hours to her; objectively she knew it was only minutes, but it sure felt different to the young woman.

She then steeled herself, and continued reading. _"What happened after that is not pleasant for me to remember, Giles..."_

{It gets worse? How the *hell* can it get worse? } Buffy wondered shell-shocked, all sort of horrible ideas coming to mind. So she continued reading on...

Her breath caught in deep-rooted fear, when Buffy got to the part where Xander referred to questionable decisions made by her. She then started to tear up again, when she got to the part of Xander asking Giles not to let Joyce die a meaningless death.

"_One last thing, G-man. Don't show this letter to Buffy or any of the others, except her mom. It would just stir up too many unpleasant memories, and besides - they need to get on with their lives..."_

"Get on with our lives?" Buffy whispered, as she finished the letter.

It was at that point the young woman realized that...she had done exactly that.

She had never really looked back, since that night outside the Bronze. Buffy had rationalized and justified to herself what had happened, and how things had turned out. The few times someone had wanted to talk to her about it in a way that she didn't approve of, the Slayer had instantly shut down the conversation - in no uncertain terms.

Ms. Summers suddenly found herself wondering what things would be like in this world today, if she had just *listened* to what Xander had wanted to say 2 1/2 years ago...

{Even after all that happened, he still made a point of trying to help us, trying to save my mother. What does it say about me that when *I* was mad at *him*, I shunned the guy and just walked away? Xander, even after he got himself blown up, is still helping, still thinking of others.}

It was too much, too soon. Her entire world had been turned upside down, yet again.

Buffy sat there on the porch steps, and *cried*. With deep, hot, scalding tears, she cried over lost chances, new fears, and for the first time EVER...she openly mourned the loss of her high school classmate, her rock, her best male friend.

Her White Knight.

The blonde found herself truly regretting she had never made things right with him. { I never even tried that hard. After all Xander had done for me, I could have at least *tried*! }

Buffy eventually wiped the tears from her eyes, mentally wishing that she had brought some Kleenex out with her. How had she gotten to this point? Where she was so self-absorbed with herself, that it took her almost three years to see the reality before her face?

Ms. Summers suddenly remembered her boyfriend Jeff, from her first year of college. He had been Buffy's first normal boyfriend, other than the guy called Pike, ever since the whole Slayer destiny thing had been sprung on her.

He had been sophisticated - although looking back on it, Buffy conceded that Jeff had had a superior attitude that bordered on arrogance at times - worldly, and cultured. Things that she hadn't associated with Xander, *ever*, back in high school.

And yet, the first time Jeff had encountered the real world all around him that contained vamps and demons, he had *sprinted* out of town as quick as he could - heading for Princeton. He hadn't wanted anything more to do with Buffy, or her insane life.

Xander, on the other hand, had thrown himself into that world with abandon. Even when she'd tried to talk him out of coming to look for Jesse, he had gone down into those sewers with her anyway.

Even when it had gotten worse - the Master, the Judge, Acathla - Harris had refused to run. No matter what, he'd been there for her even if it would most likely get him killed.

Until she had turned on him, the former Scooby hadn't run, he had been...forced out. Left on the street, bruised and dazed from a vampire attack - and with another undead bastard waiting to pounce on him, as soon as his so-called friends had abandoned him.

And even after spending all that time in Hell - Buffy involuntarily shuddered at the thought of what Xander had must have gone through, there - when he'd done his job with those zombies that night, Xander *still* hadn't walked away.

Looking at it in retrospect, after his memories had been restored...with the fallout from Willow's spell, the guy must have known exactly what was going to happen at Graduation. No one would have criticized him for it, if he hadn't been there; it wasn't like he was a member of the Scooby gang anymore...

And yet Xander had stayed, making the giant Mayor-snake follow him into the trap the Scoobies had planned for the pure demon and paying with his life, for doing so. Buffy felt herself tearing up again.

{He didn't run. Instead, he ran headlong into danger and got killed for it. That's the kind of person I turned my back on.}

And it was her decision, even if Cordy and Willow had freely participated in it. Leaving him there, to be saved by Angel. Buffy frowned for a second, {Angel, of all people, would have had the best reason to hate Xander. And yet, he didn't leave him on the street that night. }

Afterwards, he and the time-displaced refugee had seemed to have arrived at some kind of tacit understanding; for when the former Soldier Guy had left the library after that night, it had been the ensouled vampire he had found refuge and safety with.

Buffy knew that the few times she had visited Angel at his mansion on Crawford Street after that cursed evening, that Xander had been somewhere in the residence. Harris had *haunted* that house, was the best way to put it; she understood that it hadn't been his home, because he didn't have one anymore. It was just a temporary resting place, till Graduation came.

One time she'd even tried to talk her former friend, but only once. Because when he'd heard the screams of pain, Angel had made it *very* clear that if she tried to do that again, he'd throw her out like he'd done with Cordelia - and she would never again set foot in his house.

The former Scooby would not come out when Buffy was around, after that. Or when Willow, or Giles, or Wesley had followed in her footsteps. He only talked to Angel.

{Angel. He'd know about Xander, and what really happened after he returned.} Buffy thought to herself. The Slayer made a mental note to contact the ensouled vampire in Los Angeles, to ask him about her former friend.

{Angel seemed to be his friend there at the end, and I doubt I could ever have been even that much - with what I did.} Buffy sighed heavily, and anyone who might have heard it could tell it was a sigh of sadness.

The vampire Slayer looked up at the stars again. {Oh Xander, what I wouldn't give for a chance to set things right with you.}

**The Sunnydale industrial district, across town. The same time**

Orlando of the Knights of Byzantium surveyed the warehouse, that his unit had been able to obtain for use as a base. His brethren hurried around, moving into the locale that they had only arrived at earlier in the day.

The mission of the Knights of Byzantium was *far* too important to stop for any rest breaks.

"Orlando?" another of the Knights approached his nominal leader.

"Yes, Dante?"

"All the supplies are unloaded, brother. I have our people doing sweeps of the building. It appears that there are at least two sewer entrances into the warehouse; and I've ordered that they be closed up."

Orlando nodded. "Good. Although, don't seal them up completely - we may have use of them ourselves. Once the building is secure, have a work party start preparing a training area for us."

Dante nodded, "As you say, brother." He started to head off, but stopped when Orlando motioned for him to stay. "There's something else?"

"Indeed, brother mine. General Gregor's orders are that we'll be sending out a search party tomorrow, to do some reconnaissance. We know the Key is somewhere here, in this cursed town. And we have to find it, before the Beast does."

**Rural South Carolina. Later that night**

Xander took a bite of the apple pie that had been the desert for dinner, earlier that evening. Dinner, like breakfast, had been a large affair. Now Xander, Oz, Bethany and Cleburne were sitting on the front porch, just allowing the world to go by and enjoying the quiet.

The front door swung open, and the child genius Irving Hollins walked out. He took a seat next to his companions.

"Isn't it getting late for you to still be up?" Cleburne joked with the 12-year-old kid.

Hollins looked at Cleburne. "I haven't had a regular bedtime for almost six years, Joshua. And you know that perfectly well."

Cleburne chuckled. "Tell that to my mother. Deep down she thinks you're just a normal snotnosed brat, who is way too bright for his own good. It hasn't dawned on her yet, that it's strange how after you worked on her computer - she could launch the Space Shuttle by remote control, if she wanted to..."

Cleburne suddenly looked worried. "Wait a minute, I saw you working on Ronald's computer. Do I need to call NASA, and give them a heads-up?" Joshua asked, referring to one of his teenage nephews.

"We lose another Shuttle in the future, you know."

That comment from Xander brought the group's attention to him exclusively.

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Hall?" Hollins asked, as Cleburne frantically checked to make sure that no one from his family was within earshot.

"I remember, one of the Space Shuttles burns up on reentry during the February of 2003. The tiles got damaged by some debris, on launch - and when it tried to return at the end of the mission, well...the Shuttle didn't make it. And neither did the crew."

Hollins looked thoughtful. "Do you remember anything else about that mission?"

"Only that some Israeli Air Force officer was an astronaut on it. Merry Christmas, guys," Xander said with a shrug. "Consider that a freebie..."

A year ago, the former slave would have never even considered mentioning that. And one could consider him quite the hypocrite these days, for going against his former beliefs like this. But Xander figured that since he had already changed so much in this world, there really wasn't any reason not to share that piece of future history trivia anymore.

The families of the victims wouldn't call him out on it, that was for sure...

Bethany Chaulk looked confused at Xander's announcement, much like Gwen Raiden had once done before her. Hollins noticed and said, "A somewhat similar situation to ours, Ms. Chaulk. Mr. Hall has a gift - or curse, depending how you look at it - which in broad terms resembles ours. I'll go into more detail later, if you like."

"Curse, Irving, it's definitely a curse. Don't try to sugarcoat it," Xander commented acidly, as he put on the now-empty plate on the porch next to his chair.

"Kid, I've been thinking-" Cleburne started.

"Don't hurt yourself, start small - because doing any heavy lifting, after everything you've eaten tonight..." Xander joked.

Cleburne continued on, ignoring Xander's attempt at humor despite the chuckles from their companions. "With your screwy timeline, you've been doing the 'saving the world' thing and fighting demons for almost nine years. Outside the Watchers Council, I don't think anyone I know has been at it as long as you have, or with as much success."

Xander raised an eyebrow at Mother Hen's compliment, for they were rare indeed. "And this gets me where?"

"Next month, I'm going to start changing the training procedures for the new recruits. And Irving was right all along - I want you to start teaching 'em what you know. Can you be around Finn now?" Cleburne asked, referring to Captain Riley Finn of the U.S. Army Rangers, who had recently returned from Belize.

"I don't know, to be honest. Last time I saw Riley was February, 2002 - so there will be some discomfort, but I figure as long as I know it's coming, maybe I can handle it."

One of the advantages of having drunk from the Holy Grail, was that the pain from thinking about the conflicting timelines seemed to be much more muted now. Xander hadn't tried out the experience with someone he had known in the previous history, though, so his one-time friend seemed as good a choice as any to experiment with.

And while he had the chance, maybe tell him about Samantha...

"Good, we'll draw up some kind of schedule for you to work from. I want you to show sword techniques to everyone. None of us have ever actually used a sword in combat. You're the guru in that field." Cleburne took a breath before continuing. "And I'll see what I can do with those forged papers you've got, about getting you bumped up to captain. I think that you've earned the right to be Finn's superior," Cleburne nodded.

Xander laughed at that. "Do I get the key to the girls' locker room?" he asked mockingly.

"Don't push your luck..." Cleburne leaned back in annoyance. "People?"

Everyone looked at him as the USMC colonel finished up, "Treasure this moment. This holiday is probably going to be the last real break we'll have, for a couple of years. At least till 2002, and that's assuming all those people you've told us about stick to their schedule, Harris..."

**A remote castle in Central Europe. The same time**

The retainer knocked hesitantly on the door. "Enter," came the sultry female voice in reply.

He quickly opened the door, and entered with the proper attitude of deference. "Mistress."

The beautiful woman reclining on the antique love seat looked at the retainer for a few seconds, before replying. "What news do you bring?" A table was in front of her, with a glass of what looked like wine on it.

"We have confirmed that the Knights of Byzantium have sent a detachment to a town in the United States. One called Sunnydale," the man said with his eyes lowered.

The woman's eyebrows rose up, just a fraction of an inch. "Isn't that the town Dracula met his end in?"

"Yes Mistress, I'm told he was slain by the Slayer who is guardian of the Hellmouth there. The older blonde one."

The woman snorted. "The egomaniacal fool, why did he feel he had to challenge the Slayer on her home turf? She wasn't leaving there, so he decided to go to her. Men!" She leaned over, and took a sip from the glass. She then put it back down, "Do we know what they're looking for there?"

"No, Mistress, although if the Knights are present - it surely must be connected to Glorificus."

"Who hasn't been seen or heard from for almost two years now, yes I know. Something is going on, something has *changed* with the humans. Two Slayers, the human governments paying more attention to us than is appropriate, rumors of this warrior lost in time. I miss the old days, I tell you, when all you had to worry about was a teenage girl controlled by men with ego issues..."

The retainer remained silent during her statement. He knew enough to not interrupt, when his Mistress was thinking out loud. He had seen her in a bad mood before...

Elizabeth Bathory, the Bloody Countess of Hungary during 1610 and murderer of Ildiko the vampire Slayer, made up her mind. She fixed the retainer with a glare that would cause most men to shiver in fear. But the servant controlled his terror; he knew that if he reacted openly, he would fail the test she was always giving her retainers and forfeit his life to her whim.

"This has gone on long enough. It's time for us to take action! Contact the Immortal, and tell him I desire a meeting. Also, see about finding a secure neutral site for said meeting, within the next six months. There is much for us to talk about."

**The private office of Lilah Morgan, Wolfram & Hart building, Los Angeles. December 26, 2000**

Lilah Morgan was talking on the phone, and she was not in a good mood. "What do you mean, you don't know what he's up to!?"

She listened for a second. "You *have* to know, after all - you've been doing this for me for nearly a year! All right, find out and then let me know. Or else you'll find your ass transferred to a third world dimension, by this time tomorrow!" She hung up the phone, slamming it down angrily.

Lilah knew that Lindsey MacDonald was getting desperate with the Angel & Darla situation. He was up to something, and according to rumor something drastic at that. And Lilah wanted to know what it was, as she suspected the one-handed man would screw up and get them both killed - if Angel decided to take the gloves off.

Her intercom buzzed. "Ms. Morgan, the individual you've requested for the Harris project is here."

"Good, send him in!"

Hopefully, this would take of her problem with the so-called *Timetripper*. Then she could find out more about Lindsey's little scheme...

TBC...


	21. Chapter 21

**Part Twenty-one**

**Abandoned warehouse, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. January 12, 2001**

Malcolm Fletcher watched the building across the street, through the binoculars mounted on a tripod. He watched two men approach the building, then enter it. After they had done so, he leaned back and made a notation on the notepad the man had set up next to the tripod.

"Two more just entered," the balding agent said to his companion.

"How many does that make?" the Siberian nicknamed Red leaned over his shoulder, to look at the building in question.

"Total of 25 have gone in, since sundown. Of those, 17 are still in there," Fletcher responded.

"Not counting those who came in through the sewers," Red commented.

Fletcher frowned at that one. He had joined Siberian Trip Wire to help fight against the nasties in the dark; of course, someone with the skills that he had picked up while with the FBI would be completely wasted, as just another grunt in the STW armed forces.

So he'd promptly found himself doing the same things he had done in the Bureau, for his new teammates. A good investigator was worth his or her weight in gold, in this game.

Because fighting the baddies in the night involved more than just busting in through doors, and cracking heads open. That sort of thing only took place in the movies or on television, as more and more people in America were starting to realize. In order for everything to work properly when the time came to fight, preparation and investigation had to be done first.

And that was where Fletcher came in.

When he'd started his new job, Malcolm found himself tracking crime reports, crime statistics, missing person trends, newspaper stories and a multitude of other facts. He'd sifted through it all and when he thought he had spotted something, well - that's what he was doing here in the City of Brotherly Love.

Fletcher had spotted a discrepancy in the number of bodies of homeless people discovered by the local police.

Namely, there were too damned few of them.

An urban metropolis the size of Philadelphia should have had more dead homeless people per square capita, than the numbers he had unearthed. And somehow, Fletcher had doubted that it was just because that the local authorities were doing such a great job of dealing with the homeless problem.

So he had taken an investigation team to the area, and done some good old-fashioned detective work. After a week of digging, the unit had discovered the building across the road from where he was now sitting. He had called for reinforcements, and a day later Red had shown up leading a team of commandos.

"What are their peak hours?" Red asked.

"Looks like from about midnight, to five in the morning or so."

"So, we definitely don't want to go in during those hours. We'd have to deal with both the customers and staff, and that's too many variables for me to be comfortable with..."

Fletcher went back to the binoculars, and examined the building across the way. Every window was boarded up, on every floor. There was one door in the front, and he knew the only other entrance above ground was a loading dock in the rear. Everything else had been bricked up.

"Your people been able to figure out how large the staff might be?" the former FBI agent asked.

Red shook his head. "Uh, no. We'd normally do it by looking at the target area with heat sensors, but the problem is that vampires don't show up on heat sensors. We're having to find alternate ways of trying to figure out the enemy numbers."

"No Ninja recon?"

Red shook his head again at Fletcher's question. "No way, until we have at least some idea how big the operation is - we don't need to go tipping them off that we're coming. They're flying out some ground radar to us, should be here later tonight. Once it's in place, we'll give it a try."

Fletcher looked grim. "I hope it works. The sooner we get in there, the sooner I stop being physically ill - from thinking about what they're doing over there..."

**Cleveland, Ohio. The same time**

Wesley Wyndham-Pryce leaned back in his seat and sighed, massaging his temple. He was not happy to be here.

As part of Angel's quest to cure Darla, Wes had travelled to this city - not long after a major case in LA had been resolved. He'd come to a large warehouse with an apartment suite on the top floor, that was used by the Watcher named Sam Zabuto - and his Slayer named Kennedy.

The reason for this was that Mr. Zabuto was reputed to have an excellent, wide-ranging library, and if there was any chance a cure for the blonde woman could be found - this place was the best bet for it, outside of the Council's book repositories in England.

That wasn't why Wes was unhappy at being here...

Rather, meeting the latest incarnation of the vampire Slayer was.

Wesley hadn't met Kennedy yet, and he was dreading doing so. He understood now why so many Watchers retired or resigned after their charge was killed; after all, how do you relate to the latest Chosen One, knowing that a young girl that you had trained and cared for had to die in order for her to become empowered this way?

Not that Faith had cared for *him* very much, mind you, but still.

Sam Zabuto walked into the library, and handed Wesley a cup of tea. "Here you are, Mr. Wyndham-Pryce. Earl Grey, hot, two sugars."

Wes smiled at his host, thanking him at once. Sam then asked, "How does it progress?"

Pryce sighed again. "Nothing so far, I'm afraid. All the healing spells I've uncovered so far are either based on irredeemably dark magicks, or require a witch of unthinkably immense power to be cast. Neither of which are compatible with our current circumstances in Los Angeles, I'm sorry to say."

Zabuto shook his head. "I still find it hard to believe the tale you told me, my friend. Vampires returning from the dead, in human form? It almost makes our job redundant, treating vampirism as some sort of disease that can eventually be overcome..."

Wes chuckled. "Quite, yes. Still, I doubt the ritual of the Raising could ever be mass-produced that way - which is probably just as well-"

Just then, Kennedy the vampire Slayer came in to prepare for her night's patrol. "Sam? Where are you-" She stopped at seeing Wyndham-Pryce sitting with her Watcher. "Hi. Uh, who are you?"

Wesley froze, instantly knowing who she was. The Jamaican Watcher noticed and said hurriedly, "Miss Kennedy, may I present to you a former colleague of mine - Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, currently with the Angel Investigations detective agency in Los Angeles."

Kennedy's eyes went wide. "*The* Wesley Wyndham-Pryce? You were the Watcher for my predecessor, what was her name - Faith - weren't you? As well as the man who debriefed that guy Xander Harris back in 1999, right?"

Wesley slowly nodded his head, {Suck it up and deal, man. Faith's been dead for nearly two years now. And even if you failed her miserably at the end, that doesn't change the fact that she died a true heroine.} "I am he. And I knew Xander, yes."

The Slayer demanded, "Was he really from the future? And if he was, did he ever mention anything about me? Was he really romantically involved with Faith? Did he ever-"

"I should think that's quite enough for the moment, Miss Kennedy," Sam interrupted somberly. "Not only does the man need a moment of silence to answer your questions one at a time, you should show some respect for his feelings in these matters."

The young woman looked abashed as Wesley said with a sigh, "That's quite all right, Mr. Zabuto. Well, to answer your questions in order, no - he wasn't from the future, exactly, even if he was cursed with the knowledge of it-"

"How did that happen? I mean, I've heard the rumors - but really, what took place then, exactly?" Kennedy demanded.

Wes shrugged, "A botched magic ritual, by the witch called Willow Rosenberg. As the man had amnesia after spending nearly five years in a hell dimension suffering unthinkable torment, and the woman tried to restore his memory..."

Then he paused. "And did Xander ever mention anything about you...no, not to me at least. But then, he only ever talked freely to me once, that night we restored his memories. Hmm, he might have talked about you to Angel, I suppose..."

"The vampire with a soul? Ewww," Kennedy screwed up her face in distaste. "No offense, but as far as I'm concerned - a vamp is a vamp is a vamp!"

"Kennedy!" Sam scolded her at once, in consternation. "Have your parents and I taught you no manners?"

"Sorry," the dark-haired Slayer shrugged, not sounding it at all.

Wesley politely ignored her attitude and finished up, "And as for whether he and my Slayer Faith LeHane were lovers, well, uh - the answer's yes. Or so I'm told - I, um, I never actually knew either of them, when they were still sleeping together. Faith was still under the supervision of Mr. Rupert Giles, along with Buffy Summers, during that stage of her calling."

Kennedy looked at her Watcher. "I've got to meet that Buffy girl one day. And Rupert Giles? The English guy who was here last month?"

Zabuto nodded and explained to Wesley, "Rupert was in the city then for his own reasons, and I invited him around for a cup of tea - despite the Council's orders. We reminisced somewhat, about the old days..."

Kennedy got a look of boredom on her face, and decided to go out - rather than listen to another story of Watcher 'do you remember whens'. "I'm outta here, Sam. See you in a few hours after patrol..." Pausing only to gather her weapons, the lesbian girl then vanished out the door.

Wesley watched her leave, his face suddenly expressionless. Sam said simply, "My apologies if Miss Kennedy caused offense, Mr. Wyndham-Pryce..."

Wes denied it with a shake of his head. "Please, call me Wesley. And no, no, it's fine. In fact, compared to some of Faith's temper tantrums, your girl was quite positively well-mannered..." He then looked at his companion, "She turns 18 years old within the next six months, doesn't she?"

Zabuto looked away. "You are referring to the Cruciamentum, I take it. I must confess, that I am not looking forward to that part of my duty at all - no, not in the slightest."

Wesley shrugged. "You're thinking perhaps of emulating the example of Mr. Giles, with Miss Summers?"

Sam didn't answer directly, "It is difficult to say. One never knows till one is tested - and my previous charge Kendra was killed by that damned hellspawn Drusilla before she came of age, after all..."

Wes became somewhat uncomfortable with the topic of conversation, and taking a sip of his cooling tea decided to hit the books once more. "Well, I'd best get back to it. Please, don't let me keep you from your duties..."

The Caribbean native nodded and got up. "I have some urgent cross-referencing to do, from '_Bristow's Demon Index_'. But if there is anything you need, please do not hesitate to call for me..." The Council operative then left, as Wesley quickly buried his nose in the ancient tome he was holding.

**Hyperion Hotel, Los Angeles, California. January 13, 2001**

Darla absent-mindedly sorted through the mail, as she walked into Angel's private office. Ever since she had moved into the Hyperion she had felt better, both physically and mentally, and the color was slowly returning to her skin.

Even though the syphilis was still eating away at her heart, she now had hope. Because even if medical science had given up on her, Angel and the others hadn't; they were still looking for some magical cure. Something to stop her dying, within the next two months or so.

Seeing how determined Angel was and the effect it had on the others, Darla had allowed herself to feel hope for the first time, in a *very* long time.

She placed the mail requiring Angel's immediate attention on his chair. The mail requiring his attention in the near future, she placed in the in tray sitting on the desk. The others quickly found their way into the wastepaper basket next to the desk.

Since she had settled into the Hyperion, Darla had been trying to make herself useful wherever possible. One of these ways was to help with the clerical work. Which was a good idea, except for the fact that it put her in close proximity to Cordelia Chase.

The 20-year-old woman who detested Darla, with every fiber of her being.

The former whore couldn't really blame the other femme, well - not too much, anyway. Because Darla knew that Cordy worried about the effect she was having on the former Angelus. Every once in a while, she could even hear the former cheerleader muttering something along the lines of, "First Buffy, and now her? Maybe I ought to put on a blonde wig or something to get him to do anything around here..."

Darla knew something had happened between the time Angel had staked her in Sunnydale, and when Wolfram & Hart had brought her back from the realms of oblivion. Something that had resulted in Angelus returning for several months, after a moment of pure happiness during 1998. But neither the vampire in question or Cordelia were willing to talk about what *exactly* had happened, between Buffy and Angel.

Whatever the blonde knew she had gotten from Lindsey MacDonald - and from Wesley, who was still a little bit wary of trusting her with too much information. Still, the blonde woman was wearing him down bit by bit, and had learned much during the last week or so.

Darla quickly exited the office back into the lobby, as Cordy looked up - then glared at the former vamp, before going back to her filing. The one-time May Queen thought to herself, { This just isn't right. Why can't those stupid Powers just send me a vision on how we can cure her already, and get her the hell out of our lives? }

Yes indeed, Darla was not having any success bringing the former Queen C of Sunnydale High School over onto her side. The centuries-old woman at times thought that Cordelia was acting like an angry lioness, protecting her territory. And the longer that Darla was part of the Fang Gang, the more territorial Cordy got.

"Any word from Wesley?" she suddenly asked her rival. Darla knew that Wesley was in Ohio, trying to find some way of curing her illness.

"The guy called about half an hour ago. He's going to arrive back tomorrow morning," Cordy replied, without looking up from her filing.

"And?" Darla asked hopefully.

Cordy stopped filing. Even though she didn't like Darla, she didn't enjoy the news she was about to impart either. "I'm sorry, but no dice. What he found wasn't usable, except through the creepy black arts or whatever."

Cordelia thought for a second. "You know, you'd think that healing would be something that those people who do the whole white magic thing would really be big into - wouldn't you?"

Darla shook her head. She had actually picked up a fair amount of knowledge about magic, during her 400 years of being a vampire. "No, in this sort of situation you'd expect only the black arts would do. White magic tries not to disrupt the balance of things too much, whereas black magic exults in upsetting the balance. With my condition, such that it is, well - a lot of upsetting the balance would be needed..."

Ms. Chase didn't know what to say in response to that. Sometimes it was hard to dislike Darla, particularly when Cordy remembered that she was dying like this.

Everything the Fang Gang had tried so far to reverse her condition, had been unsuccessful. Both Angel and Wes had tried to find someone within the magic scene in Los Angeles to cure her, without success. And so with nowhere else to go, Darla had sung for Lorne...

The anagogic demon had then sent them to an empty pool, and after diving in Angel had undergone some trials conducted by an English butler type. Later the Champion had gotten pissed when, even though he had passed the trials to give Darla a second chance at life, the wording he had used to try and save his former sire had proved insufficient to give her said second chance.

Angel had been furious. Furious, as in 'throw things around and break them' furious. Furious, as in 'going out and laying the smackdown on any demon or vampire foolish enough to get in his way' furious. Furious in a way that had wrecked the lobby so badly that Gunn had grumbled about it for days, afterwards.

It was after that that the gang had concentrated their efforts on finding a cure for her. Whether they were working on a case or trying to save the world, curing Darla was their mission. It was a mission that all of them, even Cordy after some hostility, had adopted.

The brunette looked up at the blonde. "Darla, I want you to know-"

"Don't," the blonde interrupted her. "At least - not right now." She quickly walked off, across the lobby and up the stairs.

Not knowing that the two of them were being watched the whole time, by not unfamiliar eyes.

**Washington, D.C. January 14, 2001**

"He'll see you now."

Esther Marcum and Joshua Cleburne looked up in response to the statement of the aide. Then they got up and followed him, into the temporary office set up by the man they had come to see.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Secretary," Esther greeted him.

Donald Rumsfeld got up and shook their hands. "Not yet, not officially; not till after the twentieth..."

He then motioned for them to sit down across the desk from him, as the man took his seat. "Now, what's all this about? It strikes me that a Marine colonel and a civilian would not bypass the chain of command this way, unless there was something really important at stake."

Esther started up, "Mr. Secretary-designate, I'm not sure if you're familiar with our organization, but we're from Siberian Trip Wire. That is-"

Rumsfeld interrupted Esther, "Yeah, yeah, I know what it is. I was SecDef back in '75, when you guys had to handle that A-bomb those Palestinian terrorists had smuggled into Boston. I'm familiar with your organization..."

This man, in addition to being the oldest Secretary of Defense in U.S. history, had also been the youngest in U.S. history. "...and as I recall, you people only come out of the woodwork when there's something drastic going on. So what's the situation here?"

Esther spoke up. "Sir, we have intelligence - in which we place the highest possible degree of confidence - that within nine months, we will be attacked in such a manner that the casualties will exceed the number of dead from Pearl Harbor."

Rumsfeld's eyes narrowed at Esther's declaration. "Who?" he demanded simply.

"Al-Qaeda," Cleburne said succinctly.

"That's the group that bombed the embassies in Africa during '98, isn't it? Osama bin Laden and his associates?" Rumsfeld asked.

"Yes, sir. They want to try to hit us on our soil here, in an attempt to bring the jihad to us," Cleburne clarified.

"State-sponsored?"

Cleburne had a suspicion about what state it was that Rumsfeld had in mind. "We don't believe so, at least not anything beyond unknowingly providing logistical support," Joshua quoted what Xander had told him.

"Why within nine months?"

Esther answered this one, "Our information indicates that the attack will take place, during the first two weeks of September this year."

Rumsfeld fixed Esther with a piercing look. "This all seems mighty detailed. How confident are you that it's not disinformation?"

"Completely," was Cleburne's strong reply.

"You've got a human resource in al-Qaeda?"

"No sir, as far as we know, our informant's never left the country - except in the company of U.S. military personnel."

The soon-to-be Secretary of Defense looked puzzled now. "Then why the huge confidence in him?"

Esther mentally prepared herself. She nodded at Cleburne, who opened an attaché case and pulled out a large file. "Mr. Secretary-designate. Let us explain - but let me say first, we're not insane and we can prove every detail of the fantastic tale that you're about to hear. Do you remember the situation with the USS Cole, back in October?"

"That destroyer that some terrorists tried to blow up in Aden?"

"Yes sir, our source tipped us off about that also. You see, his memories are...different from any of ours. The fact is - he can remember everything up till the summer of 2003 quite clearly," Esther said, half enjoying what she was doing and half-worrying over the reaction.

"Explain yourselves right the hell now," Rumsfeld said tersely, glaring at them both.

And thus, they did so.

**Outside the abandoned warehouse, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Later that day**

Xander checked his weapon one more time. And down the line behind him, the other commandos did the same.

The ground radar of the Siberians had done its job, and now the STW force had both a detailed layout of the interior of their target, and an idea of the number of hostiles they would face. Enough information was present, 'actionable intelligence' as the professionals called it, to make the planned operation feasible.

The commandos for the operation, including Xander, had arrived the night before and hurriedly familiarized themselves with the target area and the plan. And once they'd learned the exact nature of their target, they had all thrown themselves into the preparation with a vengeance.

Now, in the midday sun, Xander found himself with the other soldiers - preparing to storm the building. He shifted uncomfortably in the gear that the Siberians had issued him. {These things are uncomfortable as hell. Huh, as I recall good old PFC Grant never had to wear anything like this in Vietnam.}

He was outfitted in the standard get-up for a special operation team. Helmet, bulletproof vest, night-vision goggles (not in use at the moment, but they would come in handy indoors) and everything else a SWAT team member could need or want.

But Oz, who was next to Xander, was dressed casually. Because after all, such equipment would just get in his way, when he turned into a werewolf.

Up ahead of Xander was Red, the Navy SEAL in command of the operation. And Mike Byrne was talking on his throat microphone, coordinating with the other teams. Agent Fletcher was in the back with another team, sealing off the loading dock in the back of the old warehouse.

Under the street, there were three teams maneuvering to seal access to the target through the sewer system, under the command of Graham Miller. Xander was glad of that, because over the last year or so, he had come to be good friends with the Army Ranger. In the previous history, Harris had really never gotten to know him; he was someone that had hung around with Riley, not the Scoobies.

Xander regretted that now. He had come to treasure his friendship with Graham, and felt that if he'd known him better in that other world - it would have been nice to have had a friend outside the tight-knit circle of Scoobies.

Xander looked at his watch. "How much longer?" Oz asked, seeing his old buddy checking the time.

"About ten minutes, according to the schedule," Xander replied.

"What are we waiting for?" Oz asked.

"Philadelphia's main contribution to our little party," Xander replied tersely.

The Philadelphia PD had cleared out the few civilians in the abandoned industrial area, and was keeping the media away with a cover story about a large-scale methamphetamine lab. However, their main contribution was a piece of equipment almost tailor-made for what STW had in mind.

Xander's chain of thought was broken, as he saw Red tense up. "Say again, Team Delta. I did not copy your last transmission..." He listened for a few seconds, and then spoke again. "Come in, damn it - Montgomery! What's going on-"

Suddenly the commandos heard a burst of gunfire, sounding tinny and far off. Xander looked around, and saw that it was coming from up through the grate in the street underneath them. Red listened to his mike for a few seconds. Xander mentally kicked himself as he turned his radio on, as they hadn't done a radio check yet.

He caught the last little bit of the transmission, "...only two of them. We got one right away, but the other one slipped past us. Jeremy's down, but he got off a burst before the vamp got him...what the-!" Xander recognized the voice of Smithers, the commando in charge of Team Delta.

Red started running, with the other commandos hurrying to catch up. "All teams, listen up. Move in now! I repeat, move in right the hell now! And bring the ram up, IMMEDIATELY!"

Xander caught up to Red. "What happened?"

"Two vamps looking for a midnight snack stumbled across Team Delta. One of them got away. We have to assume he's tipping off the rest of the bad guys that we're coming..."

They turned the corner onto the street, where the front door of the abandoned warehouse was. Xander could see the door had been cracked open, with a figure in the shadows looking out.

Whatever was looking out, it saw the commandos and slammed the door shut. Even from down the street, Xander could hear bolts and bars being placed on the door. "Well, that wasn't unexpected," the young man commented, as he headed towards the target.

"Yeah, sometimes the bad guys can be so predictable. Luckily we planned for that," Red replied, as they reached the front door.

Behind them, they heard an engine roaring. Turning to the sound of the noise, Xander saw an armored personnel carrier come around the corner and start down the street towards the front door. On the top of the APC and extending outwards, was a battering ram. At the end of the ram was a large plate with the words 'HAVE A NICE DAY' emblazoned on it, above a police shield.

The APC picked up speed, as it approached the building. Xander, Red and the others quickly moved out of the way, as the battering ram impacted on the door with a loud thud. The door bent, but held as the APC backed up halfway down the street. It then came back at the door, at a high rate of speed.

This time, a loud crash accompanied the impact as the door crumbled and fell backwards, exposing the interior of the building to the outside.

Two of the commandos rushed forward, and tossed grenades into the entryway of the building. After three seconds, a loud boom came to the ears of the white hats.

"Go, go, go!" Red shouted as he entered the building, after slipping his goggles on. Xander followed along with the other commandos, Oz bringing up the rear of the attack.

Two bodies that were still smoldering greeted Xander, as he came through the doorway. Before he had even gone ten feet, one of the bodies erupted into flames and then turned to ash. The other started to get up; the disadvantage of fighting the undead, was that usually it took more to kill them than the living.

Red stepped over the rising vampire, and fired a five-round burst from his M4A1 carbine into the chest of it. The undead American cried out in pain and then his eyes grew wide, as smoke came from his skin. Suddenly his chest burst into flames, as the vampire futilely tried to pat the fire out with his hands. Within seconds, the bloodsucker was consumed by fire and turning to dust.

Red looked over his shoulders at the commandos. "You know your assignments! MOVE!" The team quickly split up into several groups and headed into the building, with one group staying to secure the front entrance. Xander could hear the sound of gunfire from elsewhere in the building, as the other teams effected entry themselves.

He followed Red into the building, figuring he needed to keep an eye on Cleburne's friend - who was definitely in love with that waitress these days, and had a lot to live for. Xander made his way through the maze-like interior of the warehouse, looking at scene after scene through the greenish tint of his night-vision goggles.

For the current occupiers had not turned on any lights, clearly to maintain control of the premises.

After several twists and turns, the commandos came to what appeared to be a lounge room. There was a bar, with several barstools that had been overturned. A pool table was in the center of the room. It looked like any other honkytonk bar in the world, except for the employees who were reacting to the new arrivals.

Several vampires were approaching with their game faces on, as a handful of fiercesome-looking demons came out from behind the bar. What alarmed Xander the most was that two of the demons were carrying shotguns.

"Targets at ten o'clock!" Red shouted out.

Three of the commandos raised their assault carbines and aimed, they then let loose a five-shot burst each. The head of demon closest to them crumpled from the impact, as green blood replaced much of its forehead.

The second demon howled, as a bullet hit its shoulder. But apparently, his shoulder was more bulletproof than his compatriot's head. He swung the shotgun up to hip level and fired off a blast.

The pellets flew through the room. Several of the vampires howled as they were hit by them, while one of the commandos screamed as the ammo hit his leg below the vest. Xander could also hear beneath the boom of the shotgun several low thuds, as pellets hit the vests of several of the commandos.

Himself included. Xander felt the hammering sensation in his left ribcage, and he staggered for a second before his reflexes kicked in and the human started moving once more. The other combatants were doing the same.

Suddenly behind them, an inhuman roar was heard - as a werewolf bounded into the bar.

Oz, in lupine form, looked around - and then leaped at the vampire nearest to him. The vampire, which had been a gangbanger before he had been turned, raised his arms in an attempt to deflect the ball of enraged fur flying towards him.

But the momentum of Oz's impact pushed both him and the vamp back and over the bar. After a few seconds, screams could be heard from behind the bar.

This caused the vampires and remaining demon to pause for a second. The Siberians had no such qualms, as they took advantage of the opportunity and attacked their opponents.

Red fired off several shots from his carbine into the head of the still-standing demon holding the shotgun. These gunshots found their mark and the head of the demon vanished into a fine mist. "Head shots, always go for the head shots..." Red muttered.

Xander stepped forward towards a vampire that had just turned from the spectacle at the bar. He swung the stock of his assault weapon into the vampire's chest, hard. His opponent groaned and fell back. So Xander brought the barrel of the weapon up and pointed it at the falling form of the vampire, firing off a five-round burst once it was in position.

The Siberians preferred firing five-round bursts these days, actually, as they had determined that in general...three of their bullets with potassium in the tip grouped together, started enough of a fire to turn a vampire to ash. So it was three shots, with two spares for the kill strike.

In this case, it worked. The vampire looked down with wide eyes, as the smoldering fire on his shoulder lit up the darkness of the room. This was clearly not what the vampire had expected, from being shot. The fire then flared up and within seconds the vampire was consumed, turning into dust.

Around them, the commandos and vampires were mixing it up. Most of the Siberians choose not to use their firearms unless they were almost touching the enemy, so as to avoid the danger of collateral damage upon friendly fire.

This evened up the odds somewhat. Still, the vampires were fighting professionally trained killers, not your normal blood bag walking along the street. The Siberians mostly came out on top, but not in every fight. Xander saw one commando go down, with blood flowing from an open wound on the neck.

At the bar, Werewolf Oz jumped up from behind it and crouched on the bar top surveying the scene. It appeared that his supernatural senses enabled him to see in the dark, without the aid of the goggles worn by the soldiers. The wolf then fixed its glare at one of the remaining demons.

Oz leapt through the air towards his intended target, landing on its back. The demon twisted and turned, trying unsuccessfully to dislodge the werewolf. The whole time, Oz's claws tore into the bad guy, opening up huge gashes that it could not ignore.

Xander made his way across the bar room, fighting a vampire here and there. He finally reached his destination, a large and sturdily-built door. He tugged at it once, and it wouldn't budge. He saw a vampire laying on a table nearby, with its arm clearly broken. A commando was about to plunge a stake into its chest...

"Wait!" Xander shouted out, his comrade stopping the stake before it began its downward descent. Harris then hurried over, and grabbed the vampire by the collar. "How do we get through that door? Tell me, and you might get to see tomorrow night!"

His prisoner gulped, he had seen enough to know his chances were not good unless he cooperated. So he nodded over towards the bar, "There's a button underneath the counter, near the beer dispensers. It disengages the lock and opens the door. But we've got guards on the other side..."

"Don't worry about that part," Xander pushed the vampire down. "Now don't resist, and you'll survive this. Probably..."

Xander looked around, and saw that the Siberians had taken the room. Red headed over to the bar, having heard the response to Xander's question. He waited a few seconds till the Siberians were in position. He then nodded, and pushed the button.

A loud click could be heard from the door, as it swung open. A primal scream was then heard, as a huge red and blue demon ran out.

He was easily nine feet tall, and had to bend down to come through the door. But before he could straighten up, the Siberians opened fire on him. He extended himself to his full height, just shrugging off the bullets.

"Oh great, he's bulletproof!" Xander shouted.

Red shouted, "Fall back. Pineapple inbound!"

The commandos scrambled out of the way, taking what shelter they could. The demon shook himself, several bullets falling out of its clothes when it did so. It then looked up, and was hit almost square in the face with the grenade that Red had just thrown. It squinted the its eyes as the grenade came to rest at the feet of the demon.

The grenade then went off with a loud boom. Dust, much of it from former vampires, swirled around the room.

The demon guard swayed on its feet, clearly stunned by the explosion. Over the Siberians, Oz leaped and attacked the demon, tearing into him where the bullets had failed to penetrate.

Unfortunately, this just brought the demon back to its senses. With a roar, it grabbed Oz and held him out at arm's length. The evil thing then prepared to hurl Oz across the bar, but before it got the chance Xander slammed into the demon's torso. {No one hurts my friends, asshole! }

The demon tried to hit Xander, but he was able to dodge the blow. The former slave then slipped out the silver knife issued to the commandos for the mission, and thrust it upwards into the demon's armpit. Luckily, the attack had the desired effect as the demon howled in pain and dropped Oz.

The werewolf quickly pressed the advantage, as Xander pressed the knife in further and twisted. Several other commandos swarmed the demon, as the guard fell to the ground and was quickly dispatched.

Red made his way over to the door. A quick peek revealed that the next room was devoid of opposition. "Okay, the way's clear. Straight through to the holding cells. Come on!" Byrne then went through the door, followed by the others.

**Another part of the building. The same time**

Graham Miller led his team down a darkened corridor. His team had encountered less resistance than Red's or Fletcher's had, as they had slipped in through one of the sewer entrances.

Although the undead minions they were facing had never really expected an assault, they had still gone ahead and made some preparations for trouble from the surface. But they had never thought though that there would be any trouble coming up from the sewers, apart from maybe a customer or two trying not to pay the cover charge.

So the commandos had made short work of the sole vampire acting as a doorman, for the sewer entrance. They had then quickly made their way into the interior of the abandoned warehouse, encountering the occasional vampire here and there.

They were able to hear over their radios the progress of the other teams. And they'd heard the fight Xander and his team had had, up in the waiting lounge. They were now making their way to link up with the team Xander was in; it was taking longer than they'd expected, for the blueprints they had of the building were incomplete.

Or more accurately, the building's interior had been changed somewhat since the blueprints had been filed. The undead owners had added walls and rooms, which made the interior into a maze. So the commandos had to make their way cautiously through the corridors, with military precision.

The commando in front of Graham suddenly signaled for the others to freeze in place. Thus, they all did so immediately.

"Report," Graham whispered into his microphone.

"Movement up ahead," was the instant whispered reply.

"Team Charlie, this is Team Bravo. We have movement in front of us. What is your position?" Graham radioed to the other team.

"We've entered the basement. Making our way through the corridors. Unsure if we have your position pegged accurately," Red's voice came in reply.

"Okay, we'll advance to see if that's you up front..." Graham signaled for two commandos to come forward. "Game plan is, we're going to move forward and see what's there. Watch your six and be on guard for anything," he ordered.

They nodded, and the three of them half-walked and half-crawled to the advance scout's location. He nodded at them. Through hand signals Graham ordered the scout and one of the commandos forward. The two of them started scooting forward to the junction, where the movement had been spotted.

As they arrived at the junction, a dark shape dropped down from the roof onto the point scout. The shape, by now recognized as a vampire, pushed the scout down to the ground and tore a huge chunk of flesh out of the back of his neck. The other commando twisted and brought his H&K submachine gun up, and pointed it at the vampire.

The commando waited for a few seconds till he had a clear shot, then he fired a short burst from his weapon. The vampire twisted and growled in pain, before exploding into dust. The soldier then quickly checked his companion; not liking what he found, he signaled for the others to come and help.

Graham and the two other commandos in front started forward. Suddenly, Miller saw a large burly shape fly above the commandos. His goggles showed that one end of it was burning slightly. Then it hit the wall, and exploded.

Graham and most of the other commandos then screamed in pain, as the light from the explosion filled their night-vision goggles and blinded them.

Miller hurriedly tore off his goggles, and he could hear the other commandos doing the same. Unfortunately, that wasn't the only thing he heard. He could hear growling and feet coming towards him.

The soldier-in-charge then heard the screams of the scout and commando ahead of him, as the vampires that had thrown the improvised Molotov cocktail reached them. Graham heard the sickening sounds of flesh being torn, and tried to keep it together...

The scout, who had been looking down when the explosion had blinded the others, still had some vision left. He swung his carbine up and slammed it into the face of the vampire moving in, to finish him off.

The vampire cursed, as it fell backwards. The scout saw the soldier next to him hit the floor hard, as another vamp tore out the poor soul's throat. He also saw several other undead moving past him, down the corridor.

Graham heard those vampires scurrying towards him. He agonized over his decision; the man's first impulse was to fire his carbine at the sound of the approaching vampires, but firing blind might hit his fellow commandos in front of him.

So Miller pulled at his equipment harness to get out the standard-issue silver knife, even though he would have to slash blind with that. He blinked furiously, hoping to regain his vision in time.

He was surprised to hear at least one step of footsteps hurry by him. One set stopped near him, and Graham felt the presence of a body nearby - one that wasn't breathing.

The soldier lashed out, and was rewarded with a cry of pain. "You bastard!"

Graham instantly felt a kick in his stomach. He heard nearby the sounds of attack on the other members of this team that had come forward. Behind him, he heard a series of gunshots take place as the vampire that had fled past him got to where the commandos not blinded were.

Graham also heard a lot more footsteps coming his way. Clearly, the vamps and demons in the building were trying to escape, right through his team. Graham knew that they couldn't stop them now, with most of his team blinded. So he resigned himself to dying, but he was still going to take as many of the bastards with him as he could...

A second kick to his stomach gave him the chance to grab the attacking foot, and pull the vampire off its feet. Graham stabbed again with his knife, feeling the weapon sink into its target.

A fist to his face was the vampire's reply. But suddenly, Graham heard an animalistic roar ahead of him, and could feel the vampire shift his attention towards the source of the sound.

"Shit!" the bloodsucker cried out.

The growling got closer, and Graham could suddenly smell an animal nearby. The attacking vampire turned to deal with the new threat; Graham heard the sounds of a fierce hand-to-hand combat nearby, accompanied by grunts and growls.

He also heard more motion in front of him, as the commando moved his body to put his back against the wall. There were shouts and curses, and he also heard what could only be the sound of flesh tearing. Graham was sickened, 'cause he knew that was the men under his command dying...

He suddenly heard shouts and the sounds of advancing men from in front of him. "Careful about using the firearms. You might hit one of ours!" Graham recognized Red's voice.

The sounds of footsteps trying to get past him quickened. The bad guys were clearly desperate to get away from the advancing commandos, from in front of Graham. Of course, to do so they had to get past whatever was growling nearby, which the Ranger had a strong suspicion was Oz in werewolf form.

He heard some more shouts and cries, both of the attackers and his men. And by this time, Graham could see blurry shadows. Of course, since the hallway was darkened almost to the point of invisibility, the only thing he *could* see if he had functional eyesight was dark shadows.

There was a large blur near him, swinging at several smaller blurs. One of the blurs suddenly staggered back, as a small part on top of it came loose and separated. The blur then disintegrated, as it turned to dust. Happy for a moment, Graham knew that one of the vampires that had attacked his men was no more.

Behind him, he still kept hearing shouts and gunshots, as most of the fleeing demons and vampires reached the commandos Miller had left behind. He saw several blurs of brightness, as those vampires burnt up and turned to dust - as the potassium-tipped bullets of the soldiers reacted with the water within the vamps, and started a fire that consumed their target.

A blur came up to him, and knelt down. "Miller, what's your status?"

Graham recognized Red's voice. "What about my men?" he asked first.

"They're being taken care of. Now what about you?"

"What's happened to my men?!" Graham insisted. He blinked again, as more of his eyesight returned. He could make out some features now. The soldier could now definitely make out the werewolf he knew was Oz crouching over several of the wounded, in a protective stance.

Red was silent for a second. "It's real bad. At least five dead; multiple casualties down, and most of them won't make it, if I'm any judge of battlefield wounds..."

"Damn," Graham muttered. He had failed his men, he had...

Red seemed to know what the Army Ranger was thinking. "Don't beat yourself up about it too much, Miller, this wasn't your fault - despite all the planning beforehand, sometimes the situation just turns into a complete goddamn nightmare. But learn how to deal, as it's most likely gonna happen again in the future. Now, lean back and let the medics look at you..."

Graham leaned back, as he heard Red on the radio calling for the corpsmen to get down to their location. Then he noticed his eyesight had returned enough that he could make out the trail of blood flowing, from further up in the hallway.

**Another part of the building. The same time**

Fletcher led his team through the hallway. Suddenly, his earpiece squawked to life. "We're about to turn the lights on in twenty seconds. Get ready."

Malcolm and the others took off their goggles. And waited. The lights in the room flickered on; but forewarned, the commandos were able to quickly reorient themselves.

Once they were ready, they made their way down the hallway to a large door bolted on this side. A commando stepped forward, and undid the bolt. The door then swung open, as the soldiers advanced, with their weapons at the ready.

They entered what looked like a hospital ward, with a long line of gurneys - along with chairs next to each one. Fletcher noted that each gurney had a set of restraints. Off to the side was a table and chair, that had been turned on its side. The lead commando noticed that a cup of coffee was spilled, and steam was rising from it. He signaled for the others to stop.

It was obvious that the table wasn't big enough for a large man to hide behind. Still, no chances were being taken, so the field commander circled wide to get a view of behind the table, outside of the reach of whatever might be behind it.

The thoughts of the commando were right, the table wasn't large enough for a man to hide behind.

But a small teenage girl turned into a vampire, that was different story.

She leapt up, growling in game face. "Goddamn bastards locked me in when they ran. I'll have to pay them back, once I'm done with you!"

The girl vamp then attacked the lead commando. Unfortunately, she was far enough away that a full burst from the H&K submachine gun caught her in the stomach, as she advanced. Smoke came from her clothes, as she started to burn and then quickly disintegrated.

The sound of the weapon firing was answered by screams from further down the chamber. Fletcher and the commandos looked at each other, and made their way down the room as quick as they safely could.

They got to a large heavy door that was secured form this side also. They quickly flung the door open, though.

They were greeted by a line of cages, within which were whimpering forms trying to shield their eyes from the now-blazing lights. Fletcher keyed his throat mike, "We've reached the holding cells. Get the medics in here, pronto! They're in pretty bad shape."

Fletcher looked down the row of cages at what were, even if they were unrecognizable as such, human beings who had once existed as the homeless of Philadelphia.

**Thirty minutes later**

Xander leaned his back against the wall, then he sat down exhausted as a steady line of U.S. army medics led the former captives out of their holding cells. It was obvious that the road to their recovery would be a long and difficult one.

{Sometimes I wonder} Xander thought to himself. {Is all of it really worth the blood and pain? No, wait a minute - right now, in that other world, I'd be standing around like an idiot while Glory was kicking our asses, and wondering how to stop Anya embarrassing me with her tactless comments. Instead, I'm here in Philly and *I'm* the ass-kicker. So maybe it was just a little bit worth it, after all.}

Oz sat next to him, having gotten some new clothes after turning back into a human being from his lycanthrope form. "Rough day," he commented.

"Worse for them," Xander nodded at the homeless people.

Oz nodded. "True, but we caught this one at least. The vamps killed or captured today won't do something like this ever again."

"These ones, yeah. But there are still plenty of others out there, killing people," Xander's cynicism was in full force today.

"Yeah, and we'll take care of them one at a time as soon as we find them," Oz responded. He stood up. "There's some bottled water outside, man. Come on."

Xander shook his head. "Go ahead, I'll be along in a little bit. I just want to rest here for a few more minutes."

Oz nodded. "Okay, see you outside." He then walked towards the exit. Xander closed his eyes, and leaned his head against the wall.

"Hey buddy, you all right?"

Xander barely opened his eyes to see a medic in front of him. He waved his hand in answer, "I'm fine."

The medic looked down at Xander. "Okay. Uh, it's Lieutenant Hall right? I think we share a mutual acquaintance..."

Xander's alarm bells starting going off in his head. "And who's that?"

The medic leaned down. "Oh, he's in Los Angeles right now. Tall, dark-haired fella? Depressed all the time."

{Angel} Xander immediately thought. "I know several people like that."

The medic looked around, and instantly Xander knew this guy wasn't supposed to be here; and probably wasn't even a real medic. {A messenger from Angel. Huh, wonder what's so important that Deadboy is contacting me like this? }

"We'll talk more later. Come to this address later tonight, around ten or so; I kinda doubt your bodyguards are gonna be keeping too close an eye on you this evening, not after everything that everybody went through today. And it's best if the rest of your pals in the organization don't know about any of this..." He handed Xander a bottle of water, with some paper wrapped around it.

Xander took the bottle, and saw that the outer sheet of paper had an address written on it. "Okay, how do I find you there?"

"Not me. Just mention the name Sam Lawson," the medic said hurriedly, as he walked back towards the sewer entrance.

TBC...


	22. Chapter 22

**Part Twenty-two**

**Fautis Bar, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. January 14, 2001**

Sam Lawson took a drink from the cup of blood-laced coffee that he had ordered. The dark-haired bloodsucker sired by the one and only vampire with a soul then checked his watch again, somewhat impatiently.

It was almost ten, the time that he had told Xander to be here. But still, so far there had been no trace of him. {Humans} The undead guy really hoped this went as planned, as he knew that his employer would not look kindly upon failure.

Around him, the demon bar hummed with activity. Despite considering themselves separate and superior to human beings, there were many demons in this world that didn't seem to mind living amongst them. Therefore, anywhere a large number of humans lived, you would also find members of the supernatural world.

In any major urban area, there was bound to be several bars that catered to the demon community. Some bars were exclusively for demons, and these were very bad places for any humans who weren't suicidal to appear in. One such establishment in the City of Brotherly Love had been forcibly closed down, earlier in the day.

Fautis was the type of bar that had a mixed clientele. Namely, demons and humans in the know. Normally, the two parties got along well enough. But tonight looked to be an exception to that rule.

From the conversations Sam had heard around him, several of the patrons of Fautis probably would be at the 'Blood Bank' right now, except that they had gotten word of the closing. Lawson was somewhat worried about that, and he hoped these 'bloodthirsty' patrons wouldn't interfere with his business. Already though, they had sent some hostile looks towards the humans in the bar...

Lawson sighed to himself, {I wish I could drink something stronger than coffee, but not until I've completed the assignment. Like the chief once said, the mission is what matters.}

The door to the bar opened, and a group of men subsequently entered. Sam's eyes narrowed, as he saw that Xander Harris was with them. He also picked out the twenty-something guy that was obviously a werewolf. {Damn it, the asshole brought backup. I'm a dead vamp! }

But as soon as Sam thought that, he had a nagging thought in the back of his head. {If they know or suspect something, why haven't I been dusted yet?}

Red and several other commandos pulled some tables together, so that the entire group could sit at the same place. Byrne glanced around at the dive, "Well, you chose this demon bar Hall. Hey, how did you even find it?"

"Blind luck..." the man said loud enough for other patrons to hear him.

Xander had indeed been the one to choose the bar for the post-op tradition. At first, the guy had thought that the tradition would not take place, what with the number of dead and wounded they had sustained. It didn't seem right to him...

However, the former slave had discovered that the STW commandos were determined to continue with the tradition, despite the casualties. In fact, the number of dead actually made them more determined than ever to carry on.

Red had explained it earlier to Xander. "You see, the tradition lives on. No matter what happens to individuals, the tradition lives on - and we all know we're part of something larger that just ourselves. One death, a hundred deaths, they're tragedies, but we go on. We mourn the losses, but we don't let ourselves fall apart or lose sight of the mission. You get what I'm saying?"

So when Xander had realized the upcoming drinking session was still on, he'd instantly known he had a solution to the problem the fake medic had presented him with.

Because basically, he wasn't stupid; Harris had immediately suspected a trap. After all, he had arranged for Angel to be able to reach him through Lemke in Sunnydale, if it was that damn important enough. So someone showing up claiming to be from Deadboy, would naturally be suspect.

However, some doubts nibbled at the back of Xander's mind. The Lemke method was only for the end-of-the-world scenarios, since it was a one-shot-only affair. Maybe Angel had wanted to contact him about something less than the end of the world...

And so Xander had immediately thought of Cordy, of course. With Gwen now getting the visions, there may have been news on his former girlfriend, good or bad. Not that he cared all that much either way, but Xander knew he had to follow up on the contact.

Of course, he wasn't going in solo; he knew that he had to make...arrangements. Xander Harris was many things, but a fool wasn't one of them. Not anymore.

Thus as said, when the young man had realized the place chosen for the meeting was a demon bar - well, it just seemed a tailor-made solution for his problem.

A waitress hurried over and took the orders for the group. The first round of drinks was served, and Red raised his glass in a toast as the others did the same. "Here's to us, those like us and those who can't be with us now. Salud!" And as one, all the commandos downed their drinks.

The second round was delivered almost immediately. The soldiers started drinking and talking amongst themselves. Xander scanned the bar, seeing if he could pick out this Sam Lawson character he was supposed to meet. But no one he looked at seemed to be the Sam Lawson type.

After a few minutes, Xander sighed and stood up to walk to the bar. He ordered another beer. As the bartender handed to him, Xander leaned over to pay him. "There a Sam Lawson here tonight?" he whispered.

The bartender nodded over to where the vampire was sitting at the end of the bar, while he took Xander's money.

"Keep the change," Xander said absently. He then went back to the table where the commandos were.

"You make him?" Red asked, before he briefly chugged his beer.

"Yeah," Xander said. "He's the one sitting at the end of the bar."

"How do you want to play this?" Red asked, pointedly not looking in Sam's direction.

"Well, after a few minutes I'm going to spill my beer, complain loudly about it and wander on back to the bar to buy another one. Strangely enough, I'm going to walk in such a way that I end up close to our messenger boy. I'll strike up a conversation, and see just what good ol' Sam wants," Xander replied.

"So what do you think? Watcher wannabe?" Oz asked.

"Hmmmm, maybe. You'd imagine the Men in Tweed are getting frustrated with their lack of success in grabbing me these days. Maybe they decided to try subtlety instead of brute force," Xander commented.

Red shook his head. "I don't know. From what I've seen of that Travers blowhard, he strikes me as more of the direct type fella. His idea of subtlety would be to tell his goons to beat up the enemy! Maybe it's Dante Industries - he's probably one of their lawyers, with some kind of slimy deal."

"Or those lawyers from Los Angeles, they're pretty slimy too. Syndrome that goes with the breed," Xander joked.

A careful observer would have noticed that the Siberians weren't really drinking that hard, just looking that way. Xander, Oz, and Red casually talked amongst themselves, as to who might have sent Sam Lawson. And after about 20 minutes, Xander 'accidentally' knocked his beer over with his arm.

"Damn. Spilled my beer!" Xander said in a loud voice. He stood up, "I'll be back in a minute, I'm just getting another one."

Red nodded at him, as Xander walked off. The 24-year-old then arrived at the bar in such a manner that he was in close proximity to Sam Lawson. And the whole time he was walking, Red managed to keep an eye on the former Scooby without being obvious about it.

Xander looked at Sam out of the corner of his eye, easily noting the telltale signs of the undead. { Damn! Vampire. Guess that rules out the Watchers, } he thought to himself. Xander had noticed the way Sam drank his beer, not needing to take breaths as he did so. The bartender then came up to Xander and took his order.

"You Lawson?" Xander said in a low tone.

"You were supposed to come alone," Sam commented without looking at his companion.

"Yeah, well, it's not like they enjoy me walking around all by my lonesomeness, after dark. Taking the guys out drinking means I can go where I need to and do I what I need to, right under their noses..."

The bartender came back with Xander's beer. Xander took a sip and then continued, "Besides, this way they're not out searching the city for me. I imagine you wouldn't like them crashing our conversation, huh?"

Sam nodded at that. He wasn't happy about it, but he understood the reasoning. "Will they get suspicious of you talking to me?"

Xander shook his head. "Nah. They see me being friendly in a bar, shouldn't get too worked up about that," Xander replied. {Course, they expect me to talk to you, how else do we learn all about you? }

The two sat there for a few seconds, before Xander spoke again. "All right, vampire, let's cut the crap. I've already pretty much guessed that you're not from Angel. Probably don't even know him-"

Sam shook his head this time. "Actually, I know him quite well. He sired me."

"Angelus sired you? No offense, but you don't seem his type-"

"No. Angel, not Angelus. He made me almost 50 years after he got his soul."

Xander looked at Sam in disbelief for a second. "Deadboy turned you, even though he had his soul intact? Bull!"

Lawson snorted. "Not that it's any of your business, but the situation was such that the chief didn't have a choice at the time. Didn't you hear me? There was a war on back then, things happen. I wound up a vampire on a German sub during 1943, only - a little bit different from other vampires."

Xander frowned at hearing that. {Angel was on a submarine during World War 2? Well, I suppose he *did* have a life back before he ever met the Scooby gang...and I should have known he would have been busy during the war. } Then he focused on the rest of the sentence from the undead guy. "How are you different?"

"Well, again not that it's any of your business, but I don't enjoy hurting people. I can do it, and I *have* done it, but I just don't get the thrill out of it that other vampires do." Sam then took a long gulp from his beer. "But enough with us flapping our jaws about the old days. Let me tell you why I'm here..."

A momentary pause. "Like you said, Angel didn't send me. I don't even know what he's up to these days, I only check up on him once a decade or so. However, the people who sent me know that Angel and you are friends. They figured that dropping his name by you would be a good way to get a foot inside the door."

"Well, the foot's there, congratulations. 'Course, I could slam on it real hard a few dozen times just for laughs," Xander commented.

"Don't do that, you listen - and you can come away from this a very rich man," Sam said with a smirk.

"Oh come on, you're going to try to bribe me? You can't afford it-"

"My employers can," Sam said in a matter-of-fact voice.

"Prove it. Tell me about them and their offer," Xander said. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the Siberians were still sitting at the table drinking, however he could tell from Red's body language that Xander was the center of his attention.

"They're Wolfram & Hart, a big multinational law firm. Okay, I don't work for the home office, just the LA branch based out on the West Coast. But the truth is, they're the mouthpieces for some of the heaviest hitters in this or any other dimension. The Senior Partners of the firm, they're the ones with the big bucks backing them. Bottom line? The Senior Partners want you to work for them."

Xander chuckled. "But I'm not the lawyer type."

"Oh, they can find other uses for you besides legal matters. They're what you call a 'full-service' law firm. Anything their clients need done or want, they take care of. And anything you want, they can give you. Money, women, knowledge, or even...revenge...a young guy like you could make out pretty well. From what I've heard you've got some people you probably wouldn't mind giving some payback to. "

Xander regarded the vampire with a neutral expression, while inwardly he scowled. "Go on."

Sam inwardly smirked, he was sure he had the target hooked. "You go to work for them as a consultant. Tell them things. You don't even have to do any heavy lifting, other than taking the bucks to the bank and broads to the bedroom, if you don't want to. And we're talking a salary that runs into six figures per month..."

Xander turned and look at the vampire. "Let me get this straight, you're trying to tell me that your law firm - one that freely admits it's Evil Incorporated - it wants me to believe that I can trust them to pay me a boatload of money, and they won't dissect my brain at the first opportunity? Come on! I can't believe I wasted my time like this!" That last sentence was said with rising volume, as Xander stood up.

Sam noticed that several of the Siberians had suddenly approached his position. Xander turned to Red, "It's those lawyers from Los Angeles, he's trying to convince me they want to hire me - and not put one over on me."

Sam Lawson now felt panic. {Harris set me up. Damn it! } Lawson watched as several of the Siberians approached him. {I'm not getting paid for my ashes to wind up on someone's mantelpiece as a trophy!} he thought furiously, trying to figure a way for him to escape.

The soulless undead then noticed the table of scowling vampires, they had been the ones complaining earlier about the 'Blood Bank' being closed. Inspiration suddenly struck him; Sam stood up, knocking back his barstool as he did.

He then put on his game face before shouting to the other patrons, as they needed to know he was one of the demons if this was to work. "It's them! They're the ones who knocked over the Blood Bank. They think they can come into our bar, and cause trouble!"

Lawson was grateful to see at least one table of vampires had slipped into game face, and were standing up. "You going to let them come in here and mess around with us?"

The Siberians finished surrounding Lawson, but Oz noticed what was going on. "Guys, we've got an audience!" The rest of the bar, except for the few fleeing humans, was now advancing towards the Siberians.

The undead former sailor smirked. "Should have taken the money, *Mr. Hall*, now we're going to do this the hard way..." Lawson did some quick calculations in his head. It looked like the humans were outnumbered at least two to one. {I should be able to snatch Harris while his friends get slaughtered- }

Xander looked at his would-be tormentor, and for some reason he had a cold smile on his face. "Don't count your chickens just yet, asshole!"

The last of the humans reached the front door and stopped, as the door burst open and a large number of SWAT team members with the letters FBI on their uniforms rushed in. Similarly dressed & equipped officers came through the kitchen and back entrance. And leading the group through the front door, was the one and only former Agent Malcolm Fletcher.

"FBI! NO ONE MOVE!" he shouted out. His point was emphasized by the sound of him chambering a round in the shotgun he was carrying. The numbers had suddenly evened up between the bar patrons and the Siberians, and Xander was silently thankful that Fletcher and Red had wired him up for sound tonight.

Of course, some of the patrons had been drinking quite a bit, and their judgement was thus impaired quite a *lot*. Thus one of the first vampires to have stood up lurched at one of the commandos, who had come in through the back door. "Damn humans. Don't know your place anymore-"

The response he got for his trouble was a sheet of flames leaping out from the barrel, as the FBI SWAT team member gave the patrons of the bar a demonstration of the effectiveness of dragonbreath ammo in a shotgun.

The vampire fell back screaming, as his clothes burned. He quickly flashed, and burned to ashes. And oddly enough, this had a wonderfully sobering effect on the other patrons in the bar.

Red noticed that the situation seemed to be under control now. He turned and faced the vamp working for Wolfram & Hart, who was definitely scared again. "Sam Lawson. Under the National Security Act of 1948, you are to be detained on charges of attempted bribery and kidnapping of U.S. military personnel. Any resistance will be met with overwhelming lethal force-"

"Please, resist," Xander said flatly.

Sam looked around and quickly calculated the odds. At heart, he was a survivor. He didn't fight because he enjoyed inflicting pain on others, the former Navy ensign fought to survive - and only when he felt confident about the chances of survival. Here, the chances were definitely against him. So Sam raised his hands in surrender.

The Siberians moved quickly to take him into custody. The bartender suddenly spoke up, "Hey, I don't want the bar broken up. So the rest of you, calm down and go about your business."

Fletcher nodded at that. "Sound advice. You all sit back down and start drinking again. Hell, the next round of drinks is on us!"

That had the effect of calming most of the bar patrons down, as they eagerly headed for the bar. The remaining ones saw they had no support and backed down, as the Siberians horribly outnumbered them.

Red watched as Lawson was led off. He looked over at Fletcher, "We're buying them drinks?"

"Hey, it worked. Fighting or drinking? They chose free booze," Fletcher responded.

"Yeah, but I don't have that much money," Xander said in annoyance.

"Don't worry," Red said, as he handed a large envelope to Xander. "One thing I learned about going into a bar with these guys, is to always be prepared in case you need to buy several rounds of drinks. So go pay the bartender, and give him a little extra to cover the cost of our troubles."

"Why me?" Xander asked.

Red chuckled. "Because *you* picked the bar!" Red then turned to the other Siberians, and started organizing them to leave. They had a regular human bar to go to next.

Xander sighed, and turned to the bartender. The bartender was actually relieved that Harris was the one coming to pay him. As he had been thinking of how to approach the young Siberian, without attracting undue attention.

Xander opened up the envelope, and handed a large wad of bills to the bartender. "This should cover the costs."

The bartender looked at him. "And the tab of the customer you just dragged out?"

Xander sighed with heartfelt exasperation, as he gave up and handed over the entire envelope. "Okay, *this* should do the trick."

The bartender took the envelope. "Let me just get your change..."

"Keep the change," Xander remarked, and turned to join his companions.

"No, you should take your change, *sir*. I really don't need the money."

Xander turned back and look at the bartender, who was holding out the envelope to him. Xander took the envelope back, and was surprised to realize that it was heavier than when he had given it to the bartender.

He glanced inside, and was surprised to see a DVD was in it. There was a yellow note attached to it. Xander could make out the words, 'Don't say anything. Watch the DVD later in private, or she'll get hurt.' Xander looked up, puzzled, and glanced at the bartender.

The bartender looked back at him. "Have a nice evening. And excuse me, but I need to go and smooth things out, over there..." He nodded at the waitress, who was dealing with some irate demon customers. "I'd hate for my girl to get hurt."

**1630 Revello Drive, Sunnydale, California. The same time**

Buffy Summers was tossing and turning in her bed. For she was in the depths of troubled slumber, and about to start dreaming.

And not just a normal dream, either; like when she'd dreamed of graduating high school, moving to Europe, marrying Christian Slater and eventually dying of old age as an innocent 15-year-old schoolgirl.

This was a prophetic Slayer dream.

It had been quite a while though, since Buffy had had one of these. In fact, the last time had been when...she and Faith had dreamed together, just before Graduation. When they'd had a creepy vision of Angel and Xander wearing matching monks' robes, in a graveyard; and the male duo had then told the Chosen Two they had to know who to trust, with leading the assault against the Mayor.

But now Buffy found herself in her bedroom, spreading a bedsheet over her bed while the daylight streamed in through the window. And looking up, she saw that Xander Harris was on the other side of the bunk. Not really understanding what the hell was happening, Buffy said simply, "Well, this is new..."

The dream Xander just smiled, and as he turned his head slightly...the blonde Slayer saw that his neck was bleeding. From where that damnable vamp Lenny had almost torn his throat out, so long ago.

"Not exactly," the former soldier said in response to her comment. "Although Faith should be here making this bed with you, not me."

Ms. Summers nodded at his neck, not even knowing why. "You're hurt bad."

Xander shrugged, dismissing that. "Scar tissue. It fades. It all fades. Just takes a while."

Buffy looked troubled. "There's something I'm supposed to be doing..."

Harris shook his head. "No, not anymore. I saw to it. So did Angel. The sandbox is all yours to play in now."

The college girl grimaced. "Great. Riddles."

Xander seemed to lean forward. "I just mean...you can't protect yourself from...some stuff. That's where I come in. It's what I do. Fix things."

The Chosen One frowned again. "Like what?"

Her former best male friend then seemed to lean back, a strange look on his face. "We all gotta have something. Gotta be with movin' forward. Like a shark with feet and...much less fins..." He then strode out of the bedroom, an utterly confused Buffy following him.

The Slayer then noticed a huge party seemed to be taking place in her house, as she stopped climbing down the stairs. A festival that instantly gave her the creeps, as Buffy realized that many of the guests were *dead*; victims of Graduation. "Oh boy..."

One of the party guests accosted someone who looked to be high on weed, close to the blonde girl in question, after she left the stairwell. "Hey, what's the deal with this party anyway?"

The dude, who was obviously stoned, replied simply, "This party? Heard it was for some chick, that just got out of rehab..."

Buffy frowned, the words meaning nothing to her. As she looked for Xander, the Chosen One finally noticed him by the stairs; and to her great shock, he was making out with her sister Slayer Faith. "What the hell-"

As she got close enough to hear what they were saying, Xander broke off the kiss and said to his brunette companion, "Great party, right? And it's good that the Buffster's back, isn't it?"

Faith smiled and nodded. "Totally. Except you were kinda turning me on, with that whole Boy Slayer thing."

Xander seemed intrigued. "Was I now?"

The dark-haired Slayer nodded. "You bet, stud."

"Look at them," Buffy heard Cordelia's voice. She looked up and saw the former Sunnydale High School cheerleader walking through the hallway, with a black-haired small woman. "He needs to move on, even if he doesn't know it. He's going to get hurt - he'll even see it coming, but still get hurt."

The petite woman spoke up with a Texas twang. "She has competition..." The woman, who Buffy hadn't met yet and therefore didn't recognize as Fred Burkle, nodded at the living room - where a woman in her mid-twenties was standing and staring at Xander and Faith. Buffy noticed that she had curly hair, and had a definite resemblance to the brunette Slayer.

"Poor girl. She doesn't know what's going to happen," Cordelia said with a sigh, as the two of them walked into the dining room.

The other woman spoke again. "I know, yet it won't be the end. He will..."

But then they passed beyond Buffy's hearing. So the blonde femme turned her attention back to Faith and Xander.

They smiled and giggled at each other, and resumed their kissing as Buffy watched in amazement. Then the Slayer noticed Dawn carrying a tray of drinks, being momentarily distracted; and when she turned back to the stairs, both Xander and Faith were gone.

Buffy looked even more confused, and then chased after Dawn. Before she could catch up with her sister though, a strange-looking man bearing a platter of cheese stepped into her path. The guy with glasses offered her the cheese slices and said in a sorrowful voice, "These...will not make up for past mistakes."

Buffy simply ignored him, stepping around the Cheese Man. She finally reached her sibling, "Dawn, what's going on? And, and where's Mom?"

The younger Summers daughter seemed unconcerned, as the sisters headed for the kitchen. "You tried looking to see if she's living in the walls?"

"What?"

Dawn shrugged, "You think you know...what's to come...what you are. You haven't even begun."

Buffy sighed. "Now you're the one starting with the cryptic?"

Suddenly the tray was dropped, the glasses on it shattering into thousands of pieces with a huge exaggerated noise, as everything crashed onto the ground. Startled, Buffy stared at the floor now covered in glass fragments - before staring back up at her sister.

The brunette Key had a sword in her hand, and pointed at her heart. "Hands off my daddy, big sis-"

And that was the point where Buffy jerked up in her bed, instantly becoming awake in the darkness, with a definite sheen of sweat on her forehead. {What the hell was that?}

Oh, the Slayer knew it was a prophetic dream of course; she'd had them often enough, ever since 1996. What she didn't understand, was why she would dream of Xander and Faith like that...

{I mean, they're both gone now. Dead is dead, and there's no coming back from that - vampires not included! } The blonde shook her head, as if trying to get rid of some water lodged in her ear. {And never mind Cordy, those other women and that bald idiot with the cheese, what was the whole sword deal with Dawnie anyway?}

Buffy was worried about the implications of her sister raising a weapon against her. Ever since she'd found out about the whole Key deal, she'd been more than somewhat concerned about what all that might mean for the future, especially with her 20th birthday coming up, within a few days.

The young woman shuddered at past memories of Buffy's Birthday Disasters. Angelus and the Judge, the Cruciamentum and her mom almost getting killed, Barvain and the Giles demon... {Wonder what's scheduled for this year? Uprising, prophesised ritual, preordained death-fest? }

Trying to banish such thoughts, Buffy got up from bed and went to check on her family, knowing that she'd never get back to sleep now. The Slayer snuck a quick peek into Joyce's room; and luckily, her mother's sleep seemed to be peaceful and undisturbed, as the middle-aged woman seemed to be making good progress in recovering from her brain operation.

{Yeah, sure,} Buffy thought bitterly to herself. {Just like how Xander described it in that letter, till Mom dropped dead about a month from now...I swear, February 21st? Dawn and I are gonna be sticking to her like glue, if I can't persuade her to spend the day in hospital just to be safe.}

Ms. Summers then went to check on her sibling, and to her consternation found Dawn to be tossing and turning in her sleep. Buffy's Slayer hearing then caught the brunette girl mumbling, "I don't care if Ampata wasn't evil to start with! I'm gonna marry Xander when I grow up-"

Buffy shut the door and sighed, remembering that argument with her little sis years ago - then she frowned, realizing that it had actually never happened, that Dawn hadn't even been around then.

It was freaky to think that the 14-year-old still had a crush on someone that she'd never really met...

Buffy sighed again and trudged off to bed. {I need to get some sleep. Tomorrow's another day, after all, and I can discuss the dream with Giles; he'll know what to do.}

But the Slayer soon realized she was way too wired to just lay down, and try to get some shut-eye. So Buffy pulled on some clothes, grabbed Mr. Pointy and hit the road to patrol.

**An alley near the Bronze, Sunnydale, California. Half an hour later**

Buffy ducked and dropped to the ground, as the sword swished above her head. {Whoa, these guys are better than they look! } the blonde Champion thought, as she struck out with her left leg in a sweep kick and her attacker fell to the ground. He hit with a loud clang as his armor impacted the ground, and his sword skittered off to the side.

Buffy rolled back and jumped up. She saw two more of her armor-clad attackers advancing on her and asked hopefully, "Come on, you guys, I think we're on the same side here. Can't we just be friends?"

The Chosen One had seen a teenage girl follow a vampire into this alley, and Buffy had immediately gone in Slayer mode. The college girl had been with a guy named Greg she had met at the Espresso Pump earlier on, and Buffy just *knew* it would ruin the semi-date completely when she had told him she'd just remembered she needed to do something, and run off.

Buffy hadn't needed her enhanced hearing to hear the male graduate student yelling after her, and she knew some of it hadn't been complimentary. She had ignored him though, better to deal with that disaster afterwards. The Slayer had then run down the twists and turns of the alley, until she found the girl.

And a surprise. Several men wearing medieval armor were decapitating the vampire. The girl had screamed and run off, leaving Buffy and the King Arthur-wannabes alone. They had stared at her for a few seconds, before they had started advancing towards her.

The fight had started almost immediately afterwards, because after all - the Slayer did not like men advancing on her with drawn swords. And it wasn't entirely her fault; Buffy had just reacted the way Slayers had always reacted throughout history, when so threatened.

"We have no friends," the one closest to her responded to Buffy's earlier question. "Nor do we desire them. We serve only the will of God-"

The Knight swung his sword at her, as Buffy jumped back. He leapt forward and slugged him with a right uppercut as he turned back to her, having reacted to his weight being shifted by the use of the sword. He staggered back, and Buffy prepared to follow up her advantage - only to have to dodge the sword from the second attacker. She could see the one she had knocked to the ground earlier getting up.

"You will not interfere!" the leader of the group declared.

"Fine, but still not following you. Interfere with what?" the blonde girl demanded.

"The Key is the link. The link must be severed. Such is the will of God!" another Knight shouted as Buffy's guts froze in fear. {Dawn?}

The leader, Orlando, nodded. "We will find it. For we must make sure that the Beast cannot use it, for its own hellish purposes."

"The Beast?" Buffy asked cautiously, tensing her body.

The Knight called Dante snapped, "Glorificus, the hellgod. Or Glory, or whatever she calls herself now!"

Buffy immediately felt her stomach drop. {Glory. Oh yeah, that's the name of the thing that wanted Dawn to open that portal. These bozos want to kill my little sister? Then they're the enemy.} She jumped up and hit the second attacker with a flying kick to the chest, that knocked him across the alley and hard into the brick wall on the other side.

"Look guys, I don't know what your story is, but you've got a lousy way of trying to get a girl's interest. Flowers and candy? That works, swords..." She shook her head. "Not so much..."

Buffy immediately pressed her advantage, moving towards the Knight who had just gotten up. She parried his blow, and counterpunched him in the face. She managed at the last moment to pull the punch a little bit, and not use her full strength; for the Slayer knew that her attackers were human, and...

She didn't want to kill humans, never having forgotten how close Faith had come to killing a man back in 1999.

Of course, since they were threatening Dawn, Buffy didn't hold back that much. Because her temper and bloodlust were now up. The third attacker then unwisely came closer, when it probably would have been better for him to hang back a little bit.

He lunged forward, trying to stab Buffy with the sword. He missed, as she leaned to the left. The female warrior for the Light then grabbed his outstretched arms and pulled hard. The Knight stumbled forward, and his groin met the raised knee of the Slayer.

Now, the protection there would have been sufficient for a knee strike from a normal person. A Slayer's knee with the accompanying power, however, that was a whole different story.

The man howled in pain, as his voice raised at least five octaves in the second that it took Buffy to hit him. He fell backwards, dropping his sword and clutching at Mr. Wiggly and the twins in horrible pain. The Knight then assumed a fetal position, clearly out of the fight for the time being.

Buffy turned her attention to the two other attackers. The one who had hit the brick wall was advancing at her unevenly on his feet, but the leader was in much better shape.

Orlando cautiously advanced, with his sword at the ready. Clearly, this small woman was more than she seemed. For a second, he thought that maybe this was Glory's undisguised form; but he quickly discarded that possibility. {If she were the Beast, we would all already be dead.}

He waited, allowing his fellow Knight to get into position, before advancing again.

Buffy eyed the two of them. {Well, these guys aren't idiots, they're advancing in such a way to cover each other. I attack one, and the other takes advantage of my attention being elsewhere.} The Slayer looked around the alley, for something she could use. She then remembered the first time she had met Angel; Buffy waited for a second, as her attackers approached her.

And right before they got within striking distance, she jumped up and grabbed a pipe that was above the alley. Buffy then did several moves that would have left an Olympic gymnast green with envy; she then let go, and sailed down right behind the second of her attackers.

Dante turned to face her, only to be met by Buffy's fist in his face. He flew back hard, and hit the wall again. The second time, he groaned a little bit and didn't get back up. The Chosen One quickly turned, and faced off against the third attacker.

Orlando raced forward with a wild battle cry, his sword above his head. Buffy waited for a second, then stepped back and threw her right fist at her attacker, hitting in the chest. The body armor actually crumpled from the force of the impact, as he also flew back into the alley wall.

Orlando slumped to the ground, groggy from the impact, barely staying awake. Buffy walked over and leaned down into his face, "Look, I don't know who you people are. If you're working for Glory, then I gotta tell ya - you really should be more worried about what *I'll* do to you! And if you're not working for Glory...well, geez, but you guys have got a *weird* way of trying to make friends! Either way, just stay out of my way - comprende?" she snarled.

Buffy then stood up, and walked away. {Maybe Greg is still there, and I can salvage something of our so-called date.}

Orlando of the Knights of Byzantium looked at the departing woman he and his brothers had attacked tonight. It was clear that she knew something about Glory. And he knew now she was something more than human, from what they had observed of her skills - for no one that was *normal* could best three armed Knights alone in combat that way. {I believe we may just have found our first lead. General Gregor must be so informed at once.}

**Bethesda Navy Hospital, Maryland. January 15, 2001**

Cleburne knocked on the door, and entered a few seconds afterwards. The morning sunlight shone through the window, lighting up the private room.

Graham Miller looked up at the colonel's entry. "Colonel," the former Ranger greeted the senior Siberian.

"Lieutenant," Cleburne returned the greeting. "The doctors tell me you should make a full recovery. They think you'll be up and about within a week."

"Yes sir, I was lucky. More lucky than I deserve." Graham looked grim. The fact that his face was bandaged in places didn't help either. Cleburne, for once in military uniform, pulled up a chair and sat down next the bed.

"Red told me you were taking what happened hard. Care to explain?"

"Sir, I failed in my duty miserably. Nine of my men are dead. I'm told that two more of them are in serious condition, and the docs are saying it could still go either way. The only reason we weren't completely massacred is that the werewolf came along, and kept the bad guys busy long enough for Lt. Commander Byrne and the others to get to us. Otherwise, I would have done a very good imitation of Custer's last stand..."

Cleburne looked at the injured man laying in front of him. This was a talk that every officer in the military, as well as anyone worth his or her salt in any respectable armed forces on the planet, went through in their career. "Lieutenant, I've read the after-action reports. I admit they're preliminary, but I've come to some pretty definite conclusions already."

Graham steeled himself. "Sir, if this is about the upcoming court-martial? I'm fully-"

Cleburne interrupted him. "Lieutenant, tell me something. Just what did you do wrong? Exactly what would you have done differently, with the benefit of hindsight?"

"Sir, I would have ditched those night-vision goggles for one thing, they made us too vulnerable. We shouldn't have relied on them. When that explosion lit up the hallway, it rendered us blind and helpless," Graham replied at once.

"I see. But it's my understanding that the whole building was completely dark, since the hostiles don't need as much light as we do to move around. If you hadn't been wearing the goggles, you and your men would have been as blind as a bat, and a free meal for the enemy. The goggles evened the playing field between you and the vamps, didn't it?" Cleburne replied.

"Colonel-"

"No, Miller, even with hindsight - the goggles were necessary. They allowed you to get in and engage the enemy. They were a double-edged sword, but then what weapon isn't - one way or another?"

"Regardless, I led my men into a trap."

"From the mission reports, apparently you left enough behind to deal with the hostiles. You didn't lead *all* of your men to that intersection, you knew enough to not put all your eggs in one basket. You were thinking clearly. Hold on!" The USMC colonel waved off Graham before he could interrupt.

"You think just because men died under your command, that you did something wrong?" Cleburne leaned back in his chair, with a fierce look on his face. "Bullshit."

Graham looked confused. "Sir?"

"Miller, our line of work is *very* different from the work that bankers, lawyers and insurance salesmen do. It's based on a simple very fact, that most people outside the service refuse to admit is valid. When you're in the field, you kill before someone else kills you. You tell some egghead from Harvard that and he would be shocked at that fact, and complain about someone's rights being violated..."

Cleburne took a breath and continued. "But, you and I both know that being a soldier means that sometimes, no matter what you do, no matter how many possibilities you prepare for, no matter how much you try to stack the odds in your favor, when all is said and done - people are going to die."

A pause. "It's just part of a soldier's life. We don't have to like it. We don't have to be happy about it. We can do everything imaginable to lessen the chances of it, but in the end - we have to accept it."

He shook his head. "I swear, sometimes I get so frustrated with the noncombatants that I could tear them all a new asshole! Sometimes they forget that we're not bureaucrats or pencil pushers. Warfare hasn't gotten to the point where it's almost bloodless. You don't just push a button, and watch a nice special effects show on the idiot box. They forget that we have to spill blood and have our own blood spilled, sometimes."

Graham looked a little angry. "So that's what this talk boils down to, 'shit happens and people die'? Sir, with all due respect, that's just a pile of crap."

Cleburne nodded. "Maybe, but it's also the cold hard truth. You don't throw away lives foolishly or for a bad purpose, but you have to resign yourself to the fact that sometimes your orders will get your people killed."

"Nine of my men are dead, maybe more before the night is done," Graham looked away.

"Yeah, they're dead and gone. Nothing will bring them back. But at the end of the day, they saved some lives. Those homeless people are no longer Happy Meals in cages. They've got a chance."

"Sir, most of them are so messed up that they'll probably be right back on the street, as soon as we let them go-"

"Could be, but some of them will turn out all right and those bloodsuckers won't do their blood bank trick again. I'm also hoping that word gets out of what we did, and any copycat vampires will think twice about it and find another way of annoying us, particularly after that little trick Red pulled with the surviving vamps in the exercise yard at dawn the next day. I don't know about you, but the whole 'blood bank' idea gave me the creeps."

"Still. I lost nine men," Graham said softly.

Cleburne leaned in close to Graham. "You *only* lost nine."

"Only nine..." Graham's voice started to rise.

"When I had a battalion under my watch in Beirut, I had to deal with a much larger number. One day I personally held 241 lives in my hands, I did everything I thought I could to stop their deaths. Still, it happened. Rules were stacked against us, damn sentries didn't even have loaded weapons..." Cleburne looked thoughtful for a second. "Anyway, it tore me up for a while, but then I went out and dealt with those responsible for it. I felt a lot better afterwards. I also felt better, when I realized what I just told you."

Cleburne stood up. "Look, Graham. You're a good officer, otherwise I wouldn't have you in my unit. You've got the potential to become a great officer too, if you don't let this eat you up inside. Think about what I said. I've got to meet Esther for another meeting, and I'll check in on you tonight. We'll talk later."

**Richmond, Virginia. Later that day**

Xander looked around one last time. He and Oz had gotten back to the apartment last night, and Harris hadn't had a chance to watch the DVD in private until now. He hadn't had access to a DVD player in Philadelphia, and here Oz had constantly been around.

But the werewolf had slipped out now, just a few minutes ago. He had told his roommate he was going to a music store, to get some equipment. Just because the guy had become a consultant for the government, didn't mean that Oz had given up the music scene; he had even played a few sets in the different cities STW had sequestered them, and Xander had gone to watch him perform.

Yeah, Oz still enjoyed the whole musician thing. With any luck, he would meet a nice girl one of these days at a rock concert or something, settle down and live a good life. Totally unlike the one Xander Harris could ever live, because basically the former Zeppo knew that he was a marked man, until the day he died...

Anyway, Xander knew that Oz would be gone a while and he would be uninterrupted in finding out what was going on with the bartender's little present. The young man slipped the DVD into the player, and turned on the TV.

{Hang on a moment.} Suddenly suspicious, Xander looked around, and went into his bedroom. He quickly came out with Gwen's white noise generator, *just in case* the place was bugged and he wanted this message to stay private. Harris switched on the generator, then dropped into a lounge chair and watched, as a picture on the TV screen eventually appeared.

Xander promptly saw an attractive woman in a business suit looking out at him. "Mr. Harris, hello. How nice to finally get to talk to you, so to speak...let me introduce myself. I'm Lilah Morgan."

Xander thought furiously, trying to remember if he had heard the name before. But he drew a blank, not knowing that in the previous future - her name had never come up with Willow, during the witch's trip to Los Angeles. And in this world, he hadn't been told the names of attorneys from the lawsuit designed to get access to him.

"I imagine that if you're watching this recording, Mr. Lawson has come to a tragic end. Well, to be honest, I must admit that I'm not too torn up about that, or about using him as a distraction. From what I've heard of you, you have this disturbing sense of morality which no doubt caused you to turn him into your jailers, the first chance you got. Still, as I said, no great loss; he was a complete bore, and even other vampires didn't like him all that much. Too squeamish for their tastes."

Lilah smiled in a friendly way as she continued on, "And no doubt by now, you've guessed that I'm from the law firm of Wolfram & Hart. Mr. Harris, we've heard a great deal about you, and I for one have been wanting to meet you for quite some time. My associates and I tried to get together with you once before, but alas your nasty keepers pulled some strings to make sure that didn't happen. Ah, well..."

The camera pulled back a little bit and Xander saw that she was sitting on a desk, one that he assumed was hers. She crossed her legs, giving Xander an impressive view of them.

The ghost of the Soldier Guy he'd been for years, otherwise known as PFC Donald Grant, spoke up in Xander's mind. {Classic battle strategy, the target knows how to distract an audience. Don't let her use her appearance put you off-balance! } Xander nodded to himself, still - Lilah *was* attractive, in an evil, "I'll buy your soul for a dollar" kind of way. He shook his head, and concentrated on the screen.

Lilah continued talking, "Long story short, in the end we figured that we should just be polite, and send you an invitation to come visit us. Of course, your current hosts seem to have gotten it into their heads, to deliberately not let you know of the invite! Strange, I have to say. So, I thought I'd make sure it got hand-delivered to you. And if something unfortunate were to occur to Mr. Lawson, oh well - these things happen."

She smiled with a predator's smile this time. "So, Xander Harris, feel free to drop by at our branch here in LA anytime. We have *so* much to talk about! You're invited to come as soon as possible. As a matter of fact, the sooner the better. You see, we've got a friend of yours here that's probably dying to see you..."

Lilah laughed softly at that. "It's been a while since you've seen her, too. So I just *bet* you would be thrilled to see her again."

The camera panned to the right, and Xander could see a conference table set up next to the desk. On it was a small orb that glowed with a misty white light. The camera focused in on the glass ball, as Lilah's commentary continued as a voice-over.

"Like it, Mr. Harris? Well, it's a special kind of globe. It's an Orb of Thesulah, and I'm told that the Watchers Council intended to use one of them on you before they learned you were still alive. No doubt given your history with a certain vampire we both know, you're aware that it's used to house souls summoned from otherworldly realms. Most of the time when you see one, it's empty. This one, however, it's occupied at the moment."

The camera turned back to the female attorney. And Xander got worried all of sudden, he had a sinking feeling as to whose soul was trapped within the orb. {No, damn you, not *her*}

Lilah continued, "Now, ever since word of your...condition got out, quite a bit of research has been done on your past activities in Sunnydale. Lots of people wanted to know *all* about you, to see if they could...entice you into their camp, so to speak. But sadly, your old friends in Sunnydale are under some form of protection from your hosts. What happened when the French tried to send agents to spy on your old high school associates...well, suffice it to say it's dissuaded all other parties, including us, from ever bothering them like that."

The evil lawyer paused and smirked. "By the way, that's a cute nickname they use, the Scooby gang. How *did* they come up with it..."

Xander felt the anger rise in him. He *really* didn't like it when people threatened his friends. {Even those who I'm not friends with anymore} he rationalized it in his mind.

"Now, there are several people you know here in Los Angeles too, most especially a former girlfriend, but..." She paused for effect. "Angel doesn't like people messing with his employees. Bothersome, but there you have it. So I thought we should...try something else. Now, where would there be a friend of yours not under someone's protection? Well, someone who wouldn't interfere?"

Lilah smirked again. "You know, it's common knowledge you got quite close to the junior Slayer, while you were just an ordinary teenager in Sunnydale. Now, she was killed during your high school graduation. Then again, so were you, and yet here - there - you are. So if you can come back, why not Faith LeHane?"

Xander felt the rage reach a peak in his head, and had an urge to smash the TV set to pieces. {Control yourself! Focus. Listen to what the enemy is saying! } Soldier Guy screamed in his head.

The female lawyer looked very smug. "You want details? Well, let's just say I used some people that knew how to bring her back. Well, not all the way back of course, just her soul. For now..."

Lilah then pointed at the Orb. "That's what's in there, Mr. Harris. The thing is, we thought it would be better to bring back just her soul, and not the whole person like we did for Angel's friend Darla. Because let me tell you, that turned into a complete disaster! She's just totally out of control, but hey - not my concern. Or yours."

Lilah paused, with another big smile on her face. "So, with just Faith's soul here, we don't have to worry about our guest trying to escape, or cause trouble. After all, she's just a little ball of light right now, one that couldn't harm a fly - or a security guard. And if perchance you're thinking that all this is just a big con? Here's something our psychics have unearthed from reading her soul, to prove authenticity. I don't understand it myself, but I'm told you will. So here goes - 'yeah, wouldn't want to cut into that seven minutes'. Believe me now?"

Xander was stunned, the last fragments of doubt blasted away. He was instantly transported to a world that didn't exist, and hopefully would now never exist; one where an evil Faith had hijacked Buffy's body and insulted him like that, about their one and only sexual encounter...

Lilah then looked directly into the camera, and coming back to reality Xander was somewhat unnerved - as it seemed like she was staring directly at him. "Here's the deal, Harris. Bottom line - we can bring her back, all the way back. Mind, body, soul, everything - good as new. It'll be like she was never even gone. And I imagine you could find several fun things to do with a fully returned Ms. LeHane! We would be happy to arrange all that, if you'd come visit and help us with several pressing issues that we have..."

Ms. Morgan showed the predator smile again. "Now, I'm sure you're wondering about the stick we have in mind, given that I've told you all about the carrot. You're thinking that what's the worst they can do, kill her? Well, she isn't exactly alive, so we can't do that. 'Course, we can't just release her soul either, as it would just find its way back to Heaven - and somehow, I don't think you would view that as a bad thing..."

Xander sat frozen, as the attorney went on. "However, I can keep your former lover's soul here for a *very* long time. A long time that wouldn't be pleasant either, not in the least. You see, the soul can feel pain, quite exquisite pain too I'm told..."

Lilah nodded off-camera for a second, and the orb glowed red for about three seconds. "Like that. Hmm, I wonder what kind of agony the essence of Ms. LeHane is going through, right about now?"

Harris again had to restrain his urge to launch himself at the TV screen, as a lethal fury unlike any he'd ever known - even when he'd realized the Scooby women had left him to die that night - threatened to overwhelm his reason. {Control, Honor, loyalty, duty, obedience and discipline, but this above all - control! }

"Well, I'm sure you wouldn't want her to suffer needlessly, I mean you're supposedly this White Knight or something..."

Lilah nodded at the camera, as Xander started in surprise. "Oh yes, Mr. Harris, we know what Angelus called you that night during 1998; our files and records are *quite* extensive. My compliments; you *really* pissed him off, from what we're told, and I can count on one hand the number of people who ever did that and survived. So I'm thinking, someone with a personality like that? He won't abandon Miss Faith, no matter what..."

The former slave took in a deep breath, the deadly rage subsiding a bit. Things had just gotten real complicated.

"Now, you'll probably want to come alone, after all we don't have room for all your friends here. Besides, in all honesty, I don't think they'd *want* you to come. After all, they've known for quite a while about Ms. LeHane, and they saw fit not to tell you about it. Sounds to me that they *really* don't need to know about this invitation."

The camera refocused back on the Orb. "Now, just in case you get the idea of doing to us what you did to Sam Lawson..."

The Orb flared red again, almost tearing Xander's heart in half. {I swear - you're dead meat, you bitch!}

"You should know that this orb is in a place, where the men in black can't even imagine how to find it. You see, the Senior Partners have so many branches available to hide it in, within so many different dimensions, that it'll be like you trying to find a needle in a haystack - and one that's roughly the size of the entire solar system, at that! And if by some miracle they do show up where it is? The orb will wind up looking like a burned-out Christmas tree light, before they ever get their hands on it. And you wouldn't want that, now, would you?"

The camera went back to Lilah's smiling face. "When you get to Los Angeles, just tell them who you are at the front desk, they'll know what to do. And don't keep us waiting too long, Harris. We both know Ms. LeHane is waiting for you to come save her."

**Hyperion Hotel, Los Angeles, California. January 16, 2001**

Cordelia looked up as Darla walked down the stairs, into the lobby. And where once the young woman would have unleashed her razor-sharp tongue upon her blonde companion, now she felt only sorrow and sympathy for her.

The strain of the knowing the syphilis was killing her, had clearly taken its toll on the former vampire. And all the efforts of Angel and the others to find some way to save her, had been fruitless so far. Her condition had been worsening over time, and it showed physically.

Cordy knew that Darla hadn't been sleeping the last few nights. She had been so hoping that Wesley would bring something to help her back from his trip to Cleveland, but that had been a complete bust. { Just our luck, too... }

Ever since then, the first stages of doubt had crept into Darla's mind. Angel and the others were still just as determined to save her; but Darla was starting to mentally prepare herself for the possibility that they would fail. After a night of wandering the hallways, she was now headed down to the kitchen hoping to find a cup of warm milk, hoping it would help her get to sleep.

"Evening Darla," Cordy greeted her.

"Hello. Is that milk from yesterday still in the fridge?" she asked.

"Yeah, we got lucky and the men haven't done their imitations of Huns raiding a village in the kitchen yet." It was a fact that Wes and Gunn consumed quite a bit of food, and Cordy was always complaining about the amount of money it took to keep the kitchen stocked.

"Good, where is everyone?" Darla asked.

"Gunn and Wesley are somewhere around. I think they're researching, or some such thing. Angel's in the office," Cordy replied.

"Good! I'd 'ave hated to come all this way to find ol' Peaches, and not be able to say hello!"

Both Cordelia and Darla's heads swung around at the sound of the male voice with the coarse North London accent.

And standing there in the entrance of the lobby was Spike, otherwise known as William the Bloody.

Both women froze at the sight of him. Darla because he was her great-grandchilde, and Cordelia because this was the creature that had haunted her nightmares for months, after he had sent Xander to Hell.

Indeed, had Xander been there to see it, he would have instantly known that this version of Spike looked nothing like the chipped, lovesick, reluctant ally of the Scooby gang he would have been right now, in the original history. Instead, the flaxen-haired British vamp was standing tall - and carrying himself confidently like the true creature of the night he was.

And just to make things worse, next to him stood Drusilla. His mad sire clapped her hands, "Oh goody, everyone's here at last!"

Behind her several SWAT team members came in through the door, and Cordy instantly recognized them as belonging to Wolfram & Hart - as they took up position in the lobby. "Angel!" she shouted out, as the former cheerleader started backing up towards the office door. Darla started to run towards her.

"Oh no, Darla. Because heck, you're the reason we dropped by, luv, so don't run off..." Spike jumped from the entranceway, and landed almost right behind Darla. She let out a scream, as she saw him reaching for her.

"What's going on?" Angel asked as he exited the private office. He saw Spike near his former sire, and then he saw the others; so the ensouled vamp shifted into game face, and instantly prepared himself for a fight. "Cordy, get the others!"

"But Angel-" Cordy started to protest.

"Now!" he growled out. At once Cordy ran off to get Wes and Gunn, while Angel advanced on the intruders. { Spike and Dru. Oh, I owe you both a great deal - both for what you've done to me, and what you did to Xander}

"So, mate, 'ow ya been? 'Cause it's been a while! Nearly three years, innit? Well, however long it's been, haven't seen you ever since you got ya soul back. Gotta say though, ya poncy bugger, it's not much of an improvement..." Spike took a step towards Darla.

"Darla, get behind me!" Angel said, as he moved to protect her.

But Spike reached out and grabbed her. "Sorry, but I'm thinkin' not. We haven't 'ad a chance to catch up yet, after all..."

Angel leaped over the circular couch, and knocked Spike down. William the Bloody quickly rolled back up with his game face on, as Darla scrambled away.

"Oh, so the magnificent poof wants to play? I figured all this time you were 'anging out with the Slayer, it'd made you into her pussywhipped li'l puppy! Do ya really want to run with the big dogs, *Angel*? 'Cause I'll bet yer form ain't what it was-"

Angel's response was to punch Spike again, and knock him back down. William responded by kicking upwards, and catching Angel in the stomach. The dark-haired vamp staggered back, before regaining his balance.

Darla started to run towards the door Cordy had gone through, as the black-clad SWAT team was guarding the front entrance, but suddenly Drusilla showed up in front of her with an oddly hurt look on her face. "Naughty, naughty. You shouldn't run off like that..."

Dru looked at Darla for a second and said in that distinctive British accent, "This is all that precious boy's fault, y'know. My naughty kitten's meddled about, and filled the Angel-beast's head with all these wicked thoughts! Things that make it so 'ard for my Daddy to get all better! Not to worry though, he's where he belongs now. Given Daddy's old fate..."

For Drusilla still thought Xander was in that hell dimension, or more accurately that he was dead by now. She and Spike hadn't heard of his return to the world via the demon grapevine - which was probably just as well, for Xander's continued health and existence.

Of course, all this made no sense to Darla. She had been dust when Xander had been sent through that portal, and his name hadn't come up in any conversations she'd had with Angel's Avengers ever since her return.

"You're crazy, Dru. Always were, always will be..." Darla gasped out. The major disadvantage of being sick was that it was harder for her to move around physically, the way she used to.

"Oh, the priest said that, said the stars couldn't talk. Silly man, they told me to kill him." Dru reached out for her former vampiric grandmother. Darla stepped back, and somehow managed to avoid her grasp.

Angel and Spike were now exchanging blows eagerly, and Angel wasn't holding anything back - not with the history he shared with his grandchilde. He landed a particularly hard blow to Spike's face, and William actually staggered back.

"Yeah, now that's the way to do it, Captain Hairgel! Get some of the old game back..." He quickly unleashed a series of blows on Angel, that drove the ensouled vampire backwards. Then the Champion for the Powers saw the SWAT team members moving towards Darla, before he caught another one of Spike's incoming hits in his fist.

"I don't have time for this!" The former Angelus instantly belted Spike hard in the face, knocking him back. Angel then turned and ran over to Darla's position. However, by then three commandos had gotten in his path. They tried to hit him with their tasers, trying to stop Angel from getting to his objective.

Dru looked at Darla, who was backpedaling like crazy to try and escape her attacker. "Come now, Grandmother, no need to be scared. You've already been through this once before...and remember when I told you I could be your mummy, the night we all met my precious Spike?"

{Oh God, no - she wants to turn me!} Darla thought in a great panic. She scrambled back, trying desperately to get away from her attackers. Where she would have welcomed Drusilla's intentions a short time ago, now she wanted nothing more than to remain human and live, for however long God intended her to do so.

Darla looked to where Angel was. He was fighting the three commandos from the evil law firm. He dodged the attack of the first taser, but the second attack hit home on his left side. Angel howled in pain, as blue sparks leapt from the weapon. He staggered back, but still remained on his feet.

Darla looked back at Dru, as the nutty vampiress advanced towards her. "Grandmother, why do you make this so hard?"

"Quit toying with her, luv. Just do it!" Spike shouted, as he got back to his feet. He quickly ran towards Darla and Dru. Again, Darla headed for the door that Cordy had exited through.

But suddenly, Spike was in front of her. "Hello, Darla. Miss me then?" The woman screamed in response, as Spike reached for her - a vicious scowl appearing on his game face.

The bleached-blonde vampire was suddenly knocked forward though and tumbled past Darla, grabbing at her as he passed by but missing. The door he had been standing in front of had swung open - and Gunn, Wesley and Cordelia ran through, all carrying weapons.

"Get back, undead fiend!" Wesley shouted out, hefting his custom-made battleaxe.

Spike looked up at his attackers. "Oh great, the tweed poser!" He moved back, and as he did so - he caught something in his peripheral vision. "Doesn't matter - you're too late!"

Wesley looked in horror at what Spike was referring to. When Spike had fallen forward, Dru had used the opportunity to grab Darla. The blonde woman struggled, before the undead seer sank her fangs into Darla's neck.

Darla kept struggling for a few seconds, but her strength was meaningless compared to Drusilla's supernatural abilities. Gulping noisily, Dru's demonic features exhibited pure bliss as she drank and drank and drank.

There were some who may have thought that what she was doing was a kindness, given Darla's situation. Nonetheless, like with any other type of murder, it was as cold and brutal as rape.

While she did that, the front door opened again as more commandos rushed in, and the Fang Gang suddenly found themselves completely outnumbered. {Oh, shit.} they all thought as one, at the sight of the guns and stakes.

Spike smirked at his adversaries and then turned to the flunkies, "Kill 'em all, except for the Nancy Boy there. And hurry up, I ain't got all bleedin' day!"

The commandos started to advance, as Drusilla dragged Darla's limp body towards the entranceway. Suddenly though the front doors were blasted open again, thanks to the flying bodies of two Wolfram & Hart commandos.

Their bodies hit the ground, and electrical sparks could be seen flying off them. Because there in the doorway stood a leather-clad Gwen Raiden.

She stared at the enemy soldiers. "Pardon me, but I don't think you people are supposed to be here..."

TBC...


	23. Chapter 23

**Part Twenty-three**

**Hyperion Hotel, Los Angeles, California. January 16, 2001**

The commandos started to advance, as Drusilla dragged Darla's limp body towards the entranceway. Suddenly though the front doors were blasted open again, thanks to the flying bodies of two Wolfram & Hart commandos.

Their bodies hit the ground, and electrical sparks could be seen flying off them. Because there in the doorway stood a leather-clad Gwen Raiden.

She stared at Spike and the commandos. "Pardon me, but I don't think you people are supposed to be here..."

Spike glared at the unwelcome intruder. "Who the bloody hell are you? No, never mind - guess there's just gonna be another body for the big poofter to explain, when the bleedin' LAPD arrives..." His eyes took in Gwen's body, leering at her. "Pity too, you could have been fun. Shoulda brought in that zapper thing you used on the two goons though, luv; might have helped..."

Gwen, whose right hand was already barehanded, pulled her left glove off. "Who says I didn't bring my zapper thing with me?" He surveyed Spike. "You're a vampire, I can tell. Well, I've got to tell you, you just don't carry it off very well; you're nothing like Dracula-"

Spike actually managed to redden a little bit, at the comparison to his old foe. "Kill the hell outta that blasted stupid bint!" he snapped at the SWAT minions with him.

William the Bloody then turned towards Angel, as four commandos attacked Gwen. "Now then, has-been, let's see about you-"

The undead British guy started towards Angel, as he saw several commandos headed towards the Fang Gang - some of them carrying guns. But then Spike suddenly felt himself get knocked to the ground, from something hitting him in the back.

"Bloody toffing hell!" the soulless creature screamed in annoyance, as he scrambled up. He saw that the offending object was the twitching body of one of the commandos. "I'm surrounded by idiots-"

Spike whirled around, his leather duster whipping around his body, to see the second commando twitch as Gwen sent a bolt of lightning from her hand into his chest. Then the black-clad soldier was hurled against the wall, a loud 'thump' echoing in the lobby as the man collapsed unconscious.

Gwen looked at the body. She then looked up at her other two attackers. "Who's next?"

The two commandos looked at each other. After less than a second, they both pulled out pistols, with which to shoot the enemy dead dead dead...

"Boys, bringing guns to a fistfight, that's just not fair! Oh well..." Gwen lost no time in blasting both of Wolfram & Hart's soldiers into oblivion. And in a somewhat amusing way, Spike was about to charge the newcomer, when once again he got knocked down by the thrown body of one the commandos.

"Damn it!" Spike growled as he scrambled up again. He turned, and saw Angel's fist coming straight at his face - and this just not being his day, William went down yet *again*. When he hit the ground, he saw that the two remaining commandos who had been attacking Angel were now out of the fight, the third having been thrown into Spike's back by the souled vampire...

{This is getting completely buggered up, and in a sodding huge way!} the bleached-blonde vampire quickly thought to himself. He looked over, and saw that Wesley and the others were barely holding their own against the commandos attacking them. Spike instantly got back on his feet, and faced the vampire with a soul.

"All right, Gel Boy, let's dance. Tell ya what, I even promise not to mess your face up too much! That way, that blonde Slayer o' yours won't retch at the sight of you..." He threw a punch at Angel, which was easily dodged.

"Spike, I don't know what the hell Dru ever saw in you - but every time I think about it, the fact that she turned you? It proves to me that I really *did* drive her insane!" He kicked Spike hard in the stomach.

His grandchilde grunted, but then quickly renewed the attack against Angel. They traded punches and kicks with a viciousness that only came from enemies who had known their foe for years.

Suddenly, Spike heard another electrical discharge. He stole a glance off to the side, and saw that Gwen had almost finished off the commandos attacking the Fang Gang.

Spike quickly did the math in his head; but he already knew that the odds had now turned against him. He also knew that he had technically overstepped the mark, with regards to what Lindsey had recruited him and Dru for; as all that they had been hired to do was snatch Darla, and turn her. Trying to kill Angel's friends hadn't been part of the deal.

Plus, the Master vampire knew that if he and his ladylove stayed around, it would only be a matter of time before either him or Dru would fit comfortably into a vacuum cleaner. So he threw a punch at Angel, one that was easily dodged. But in doing so, Angel moved a little bit away from Spike, allowing him to make a break for the exit.

Spike turned and yelled to the two remaining Wolfram & Hart commandos. "Move out! We got what we came for-"

Drusilla had already long since vanished out of the hotel lobby, carrying her prize; and the law firm's grunts quickly followed in her tracks. And once Spike had ascertained that Dru was safely absent with a momentary glance, he turned towards Angel from the doorway. "We'll be back, mate - count on it! All three of us..." With that, he bounded out the door.

Angel felt the rage build in him, when he realized what Spike meant. "Darla..." he growled. He looked around, quickly confirming that both Darla and Dru were now missing from the lobby.

Angel sprang towards the door, in hot pursuit of Spike. Because right now, that particular vamp was his only lead as to where Darla was! He flung the doors open, not bothering to make sure whether the sun had set or not.

Luckily for him, it had. The former Angelus then saw Spike jumping into a stationary black van with its engine running, in the street.

"Go!" Angel could hear Spike yelling at the van's driver. Angel increased his sprint, as the van's wheels squealed.

Angel reached the street in front of the hotel, as the van started to tear away. The Champion leapt frantically, and *just* managed to grab onto the rear bumper.

"Bloody 'ell!" Spike shouted from within the van, as he realized what had happened.

The Billy Idol-lookalike then threw open the rear door and start to pummel Angel, trying to dislodge him from his hold on the bumper. Angel held on as tightly as he could. However, by the end of the block, William the Bloody got in a particularly hard blow that knocked Angel loose.

The ensouled vamp tumbled to a stop, as the van sped away. Angel stood up, his skin raw and burning from the street surface, and saw that the van was too far away for him to catch on foot now. He shook in restrained anger, and quickly went back to the Hyperion.

And as he entered the lobby, the full impact of what had just happened sank in.

Angel instantly punched the wall in a great fury, his supernatural strength piercing the plaster with effortless ease as he unleashed a primal scream of spiritual pain. He hadn't actually seen Darla drink from his prescient childe, but given Spike's words...it sounded like the plan had been for the nutty female vampire to do that, right from the start, and so the odds were Darla was now lost to the darkness.

Cordelia looked startled at his aggression, even though she shouldn't have been. "Angel?"

The Champion paid her no attention. The ensouled vamp thought bleakly to himself, realizing that all his efforts to save the blonde woman had been for naught, {I-I thought I knew what I was doing. I saw him do it back in Sunnydale, and I thought he gave me enough clues on how to change it all. What the hell was I thinking? I'm not him. I'll never be him. I'm just like everyone else, marching ass-backwards into the future.}

Indeed, thoughts of Xander and his letter were very much prominent in Angel's mind right now. Events had been set in motion like the former Scooby had prophesised, and the Irish-born vampire didn't like where they led - not in the slightest. He hadn't been able to save Darla as a human; and all he could do now was save her as a vampire, as well as try to save their future son Connor from ending up in that hell dimension.

The future felt like a long, dark tunnel to be crawled through, to reach an uncertain yet immutable goal...

Gunn looked at the leather-clad woman who had saved their asses, and silently helped him and Wes tie up the unconscious commandos. "Hi. Uh, who are you?"

The professional thief smirked at the Fang Gang's manners. "Name's Gwen Raiden. And by the way, you're welcome-"

Cordelia suddenly gasped, attracting everyone's attention. "Hey, I know you! You're the Leather Girl from that museum last year!" She tried not to think about what that might mean about the vision of Xander she'd had, for the moment.

Angel frowned, distracted from thoughts about Darla for a moment. "What?"

Gwen rolled her eyes. {She *would* remember that!} Then the new seer for Angel Investigations pointed at the boss of the detective agency, she needed to establish herself real quick. Things were damned tense in the lobby, and the chances of an irreparable misstep were too high for the calculating thief's taste. "I need to talk to you, vampire, in private, preferably."

But said vampire wasn't in the mood for games. "Look, thanks for the assist, but I don't know who you are and I don't have time for this!" He looked at his watch, "It's 5:53 pm, and sunrise will take place at 6:58 am. I have to find Darla before then, before she rises - and call someone on the phone. Whatever you have to say to me, you can say in front of my friends-"

Gwen thought to herself, {Well, this new job of mine has certain gotten off to an auspicious start! I better use the code phrase Harris told me about.} "May, 1997. I told you to eat before we left!"

Angel, who had been heading for the phone to call Willow in Sunnydale, stopped dead in his tracks. He turned around slowly and stared at Gwen, { That's...that's what Xander said to me in the sewers that night the Master got loose and killed Buffy, isn't it? How the hell did she know-!? }

The others looked confused as the undead guy gestured abruptly to Ms. Raiden, "My private office. Right now, through there." The duo quickly left the Fang Gang, who basically just stared at one another and wondered what the hell was going on.

Angel quickly closed the door behind him, with a force that clearly showed he was just barely controlling his overwhelming rage. He stalked towards to his desk where Gwen was now standing, {I want some answers, damn it... }

"All right. Who sent you?" the undead guy demanded, being intentionally vague - on the off chance the newcomer had been sent by someone other than the person who had said those words to him.

Gwen folded her arms, and looked at the vampire. "First off, prove to me that you're Angel. And not Angelus, or this so-called Jay-don character I saw at that museum, back in December..."

Angel's anger subsided as he asked in surprise, "You know about that? Well, how about the fact that I'm a vampire, and I haven't tried to kill you yet?"

Gwen shrugged, not wanting to bother with any more trick questions that STW had insisted she go through. "Good enough, and to answer your question, these days he goes by many different names. You know him, though. He said those words to you, way back when. And he sent me here to hook up with you."

Angel was still on guard. "Tell me something which makes *me* believe *you*. Something which tells me you actually know...the person...I'm thinking about."

Gwen thought for a second. "Hmmm, Twinkies. He loves them. Beyond that, well, I can only tell you why he sent me - and hope that does the trick."

"You're here to help out with Darla, aren't you?" Angel prompted his guest, his hopes getting the better of him.

Gwen shook her head. "Sorry, but the name doesn't ring a bell. Our mutual friend didn't mention her. He mentioned stuff about a lot of your people, but no one by that name."

Angel was growing impatient, as the clock was ticking on Darla. "Then why are you here?"

Gwen waved her hand in front of her forehead, an annoyed expression on her face. "Because all of sudden, about a month ago, I start getting these really weird headaches - they come out of the blue, with visions in full surround-sound and in living color! Freaked me out. I'd never heard of anything like it before!"

"I have," Angel whispered in shock. {She's become a messenger for the Powers, like Doyle and Cordy? }

"Yeah, and funny thing - so had our Twinkie-loving friend. Oh, what the hell - our mutual pal instantly knew *exactly* what was going on! He gave me the Reader's Digest version of what I've gotten myself drafted into. And he was the one who figured out I was being told to come here."

"Here?"

"Yeah, LA, the so-called City of Angels, to become your new seer. Seems that this Cordy chick I was told about - that *was* her out front, wasn't it? The brunette? She can't handle those vision mind trips, long-term. Oh yeah, she doesn't know it yet, but she's dying from them..."

"I know, the guy we've both met - he managed to get a letter to me about it last July." Both Angel and Gwen were carefully avoiding mentioning Xander's name, because God only knew who amongst the Fang Gang might be listening at the door...

Gwen raised an eyebrow at that piece of news, though. "Interesting. I suspect the people he's with right now, don't know about that. Because they're weren't too happy even with the situation of *me* coming here! They like everyone not having their beliefs changed about our friend."

Angel suddenly frowned. "You say you had your first vision a month ago? But Cordy's had visions since then - although come to think of it, she's not had anywhere near as many as you'd normally expect, for that period of time..."

"Really? Well, the brain guy was thinking, in that case...over time, she should lose the visions thing entirely - as I get them more and more."

Angel looked at Gwen. "Brain guy, a little kid named Hollins?"

Gwen was surprised. "I see our literary friend wrote quite a lot in that letter! I've got to say, I'm *really* looking forward to seeing the face of at least one of the people I just left behind, when he finds out that particular nugget of news. He's liable to pop a vein..." Gwen still bore some hard feelings towards Cleburne, over his questioning her trustworthiness.

"These people you just left, are they going to pop up here anytime soon?"

Gwen shook her head. "I doubt it, there's something coming in September that they're pretty close to being obsessed with. I think that until that's taken care of, they're not going to bother you too much."

"So they're not going to help with Darla?" Angel asked in despair.

"Angel - I doubt they even know the details of what's going on! How much time do we have to help this girl?"

The vampire reached for the phone. "Not much at all, sunrise is probably the deadline we're working against. Although, I do have a backup plan. Still, we need to find Darla as soon as possible..."

**The apartment of Rupert Giles, Sunnydale, California. Thirty seconds later**

Giles put down the book he had been carrying, and picked up the phone. "Rupert Giles speaking. May I help you?" Clearly, the British man had carried some of his work habits home from the Magic Box.

"Giles, it's me Angel. Is Willow there? It's an emergency."

The Scoobies, who were there getting ready for the night's patrol, immediately noticed Giles' physical reaction to the phone conversation he had just started. Giles still remembered in the back of his mind what Angelus had done to him, back after Acathla had been discovered...

Even though Angel had helped out during the senior year in high school, Giles still had some issues when it came to the souled vampire. He could work with the guy, but his body still tensed in the presence of the vamp or the sound of his voice. Buffy, who was closest to Giles, stepped towards her Watcher with a worried look on her face.

"She's here, Angel. This emergency - is there something I can do?"

Buffy reacted even more at hearing Angel's name mentioned. {Angel's in trouble? } She stepped forward, clearly expecting to be handed the phone.

But she was shocked when Giles, after listening a few seconds, turned and held the phone out to Willow. "Willow, it's Angel. He says that it's urgent he speaks to you, right now."

Willow immediately knew in her gut what the phone call was about, even if she had all but forgotten Angel's visit to her dorm room back in September. She took the phone from Giles and put it to her ear, "Angel, hey. It's me..."

Buffy approached Giles, while Willow listened. "Giles, what's going on? Why is Angel calling Willow, and not me?" she demanded. Even though the blonde was working through some of the issues from her time with the undead Champion, the Chosen One still felt some pangs of jealousy that her former lover hadn't immediately asked for her.

"I don't know, Buffy. He just said it was an emergency, and only Willow could help him." Giles looked at the other Scoobies to see if they might be able to shed some light on the subject, but they all looked as equally baffled as he did.

Tara shrugged her shoulders. "The only thing I know of Willow doing for Angel is that bookkeeping program she set up, and the website for Angel Investigations. I-I can't see how his payroll or PR would qualify as an emergency..."

"Okay, Angel, when do you need me there?" Willow listened for a few more seconds. "Right now? Well, okay, I'll be there before sunrise..." She hung up and turned around.

To be greeted by the questioning looks on the faces of all the Scoobies. "Ah, guys, I have to go to Los Angeles. I, I have to help out Angel..." Willow noted that Buffy had folded her arms under her chest, giving her the Summers version of the Resolve Face.

"What's going on, Will? Just what does Angel need help with?"

Willow looked from Buffy to the others. The body language of each of them silently echoed Buffy's question. Willow took a deep breath. {Oh, this is *not* going to be easy. Still, you gotta do what you darn well gotta do.}

"Okay, do any of you guys remember Darla? Angel's sire? Well, um, she's back..."

**Interstate 101 from Sunnydale to Los Angeles, southern California. Two hours later**

Willow had been right, it hadn't been easy. The Scoobies had not taken well the news that Darla was back, that she had been turned and that Willow had agreed to do the ensouling spell on the female vampire. Any one of those particular pieces of news would have caused chaos within the Scoobies' ranks.

So all three together had led to utter pandemonium in Giles' apartment.

The initial opinion of the Scoobies was that Willow should not go, and it had taken quite a bit of convincing on the redhead's part to get the gang to change their minds. But oddly enough, it had been Tara who had put up the biggest fight to her lover heading off to the City of Angels.

She had been quite vocal, surprisingly so, in that she did not want Willow doing a spell of that magnitude. Because ever since the time when Willow had gotten split into two halves, Tara had kept a close watch on her beloved's magic use. And the sad fact was that only Willow agreeing to Tara coming along had managed to convince the Slayer and her Watcher to allow her to go.

The others had wanted to come too. Willow hadn't been thrilled with the idea of Angel and Buffy visiting each other, as the Slayer had told Willow what had happened that night when Angel had visited the witch in her dorm room. Luckily though, Willow had been able to argue with some force that they couldn't just leave the Hellmouth unguarded. She wasn't sure if that was 100% true, as they hadn't really had a major challenge since the Mayor in his demon-snaky form had gotten blown up, but what the hell...

The others had finally accepted this reasoning, but had secured the promise from Willow and Tara that if something happened, the first thing they would do would be to call for the Scoobies on their cell phone.

"Willow?" Tara's voice pulled the younger witch from her contemplation.

"Yeah, honey?"

"I'm sorry - but I, I'm still incredibly worried about what you're planning to do. Are you absolutely *sure* you're up to this?" Tara had to ask with a very concerned tone in her voice.

Willow sighed. "Tara, I've done this spell before, and I know how much of a big deal it is. Trust me, I remember what it felt like when I restored Angel's soul during 1998. I was a wreck for days afterwards, but this time I'm sure it won't be that bad; I'm no longer the amateur I was then..."

"But, but that was before we saw you with your magic unleashed the way it was, a few months back. I don't want you to turn 'dark' that way again..."

Willow took one hand off the steering wheel, and placed it on Tara's shoulder. "I know, that's why I want you there with me; you'll anchor me. If I'm gonna fly off into the unknown, you'll be my...kite string..."

Tara smiled at that, as the two of them drove on into the night.

**Los Angeles, California. Ninety minutes later**

The demon felt his face repeatedly slam into the brick wall of the alley. He knew that Angel was in a bad mood, and a *really* bad mood at that, but the snitch known as Merl hadn't realized just how bad his situation was - until the number of counts of impact against the wall had passed thirty.

And the vampire probably would have kept going, except Wesley managed to convince him otherwise. "Angel, please - he needs to be able to talk to us, to actually say anything..."

Angel almost growled at Wes, and then turned his attention back to the parasite demon. He pulled Merl from the wall and hissed, "You know, I'm not even tired yet. I could do this all night, and with a real song in my heart! Now I know that your head is thicker than that of most things in my city; but I'm willing to bet that at some point, it'll break. Want to test that theory?"

"Angel, come on! You know I've always been a straight shooter with you-" That brought another impact with the wall. "Okay, apart from that thing with the Prio Motu demon! And you know I tell you what you want to know, when you *persuade* me properly. Why would that change now?"

Angel glowered at Merl. "Well, let's hope for your sake that you're not screwing around with me. Because I've got some questions, and I'm not in the mood to be played with!"

Merl bit back the sarcastic reply he had formulated in his head. To be truthful, he did have a headache and really didn't want to make it worse. "Go ahead, ask."

"Spike and Dru are in town, what do you know?"

"Them bloodsuckers? Oh yeah, word is they've been here for a while now. They were sent for-"

"Who by?" Angel already knew, but he wanted to test Merl.

"Heard that those lawyers you're so fond of, they were behind their little visit to the City of Angels. Someone high up in the food chain was nervous about something, and seemed to think that those two were the solution to their problem." Merl shifted uncomfortably, still wedged up against the wall by Angel.

"How long?"

"Hey, you've been a pain in their asses for a long time..." That earned Merl another close-up view of the wall.

"How long have Spike and Drusilla been in LA?" Angel growled through clenched teeth.

"Couple of weeks! They blew into town, but almost immediately went under everyone's radar. They've been laying low, and that sure surprised a whole bunch of people - what with their reputation of coming on strong! Only thing I know for sure is that Spike wanted a video camera-"

Wesley looked puzzled at that. "Video camera?"

Angel answered the question, knowing from experience what that was about, "Spike wanted to watch us, get our habits down pat. He did the same thing in Sunnydale back in '97, when he was trying to kill Buffy..." Angel turned his attention back to the snitch. "And you didn't think this was information I might have wanted to know?" he growled with a menacing tone in his voice.

"Hey, I didn't know what they were planning! If I thought Spike was thinkin' on hurting such a fine upstanding fellow like yourself, I would have said something!" Merl responded in a hurry.

The look on Angel's face clearly showed that the vampire didn't believe that fact for an instant, but that was neither here nor there right now. "Okay, here's where I decide whether or not I permanently merge your face with this wall. Where are those two right now? They've got to have some sort of base, or bolthole. This scheme of theirs needs for them to have a place to hole up, while waiting for..." Angel paused, as he refused to say that Darla was about to rise from the dead.

"Hey, I don't know...but uh, I might have some clues..."

Merl yelled out, as he felt Angel's hand tense up behind him. "Okay, okay! I heard that Spike mentioned a nursery, when he picked up the video camera. Something about how the female vampire nut was expecting a baby..."

"What else?" Angel leaned in close. Merl found it unnerving having a human body that close to him, but no breath coming from it.

"That's all, well - apart from the fact that Spike went and got himself some dirt. Something about how only the finest would do...so I'm thinking, nursery as in growin' some fruit and vegetables, and not for a baby? Who the hell knows...anyway, he had that specialist store over on Sepulveda deliver. They might know where your vamp buddies are. Yeah, go talk to them and show them the wall..."

"How about I show *you* their wall," Angel hissed.

"Angel..." Wesley spoke up. "We don't have time for this, we have to find Darla!"

Angel glared at Merl. "If you've lied to me, I *will* find you. And after I'm done, no one will *ever* find your remains!"

Merl inwardly shivered, as Angel and Wesley stalked off. {Lousy bloodsucker.}

**Abandoned nursery, Los Angeles, California. January 17, 2001**

Spike whistled happily to himself, as he spread some more dirt over Darla's body. It was after midnight, and he had *finally* gotten rid of those damn lawyers; Holland, Lindsey and Lilah had departed after promising him and Dru a huge financial extra, for all the unanticipated trouble in turning the woman.

William noticed the dried blood around her mouth from where Drusilla had made Darla drink from the self-inflicted wound on the seer's body, and smiled. "Won't be long now, ducks," he said to the body cheerfully. "Then we'll have ourselves a right old visit with the Brooding One..."

Spike frowned for a moment. "Ya know what though, Darla? Suddenly realized just how much that whole broody thing really bugs me! 'Course, even before those bloody gypsies went and gave him that soul, the big ponce wasn't too much fun. Always stalkin' his prey, making the kill into some knackered performance art piece..."

Spike stopped and leaned on the shovel. "Gotta admit, I don't get those performance art people either. Drank a few of them back in New York in the late Seventies, while you were off being the Master's pet. And that was a bleedin' lousy mistake, almost as bad as that hippie I ate at Woodstock! Let me tell you, my opinion - back in the Seventies, the humans put the weirdest damn things in their bodies. Any self-respectin' vamp 'ad to be careful who he drank! And hell, luv, I've heard horror stories about vampires who drink from some idiot with AIDS, thing is it won't kill 'em. It just makes 'em wish it did, though..."

At that moment, Drusilla danced her way into the room, clutching her doll. The insane undead was talking to herself, "Grandmother's coming back, yes she is! We'll have tea and crumpets, and she'll make everything all better! We'll be one big happy family again..."

Spike instantly smiled at his beloved, with all the affection that in another world - he would be showering upon Buffy right now. "That's right, pet. Well, no rest for the wicked..." And then he went back to spreading the dirt, burying the blonde corpse completely.

Suddenly, Dru screamed and dropped the doll. "The witch, the witch, the wicked redheaded witch! Miss Edith says she's coming, she's going to change everything! Put that nasty shiny thing back where it shouldn't be. And the Angel-beast will come with her..."

**Hyperion Hotel, Los Angeles, California. The same time**

While Angel and Wes were on the hunt for Darla's whereabouts, Gunn had received a call from the rest of the Lost Boys about problems with the cops in their 'hood, and a vamp nest they had found near Venice Boulevard.

And unlike in a world where he was more involved with Angel's Avengers, Charles had instantly ditched his side gig with a quick but sincere apology to those in the hotel, and gone to where he was needed most.

So, that had left Gwen and Cordelia alone together.

And had he been there, Xander would have known straightaway that *that* was a sure-fire recipe for disaster.

The former cheerleader had almost instantly taken a dislike to the Electra Girl, some things truly being inevitable. And when she had learned that Gwen had supposedly taken over her role as Angel's seer, Cordelia had gone ballistic.

"NO WAY!" she'd shouted to her counterpart. "My visions are a part of me now. I'm not giving them up - especially to you!"

Gwen had thought, { Harris, you didn't warn me enough about what this woman is really like! She left you to die on the sidewalk nearly three years ago? Oh yeah, I believe it now... } "Problem is, it's not up to you *or* me lady. And hey, I never asked for this-"

"Then why even bother coming here?"

Ms. Raiden had gritted her teeth, somehow preventing herself from telling Cordy that she should be *grateful* how she most likely wouldn't die during 2004 now. "Because bottom line, the mystical forces up there decided for me to become even more of a freak than I already am!"

Cordy had argued with Gwen some more, until there was nothing left to say on the matter. But then the brunette said hesitantly to the newcomer, "Uh, about that night..."

"You mean when the visions were transferred from you to me? What about it?"

Ms. Chase looked uncomfortable. "Well, did...did you see anybody else there in the room, just before you showed up and the big electric shock took place?"

Gwen never hesitated. "No. As far as I could tell, you were just talking to yourself; and hey, for the record? If I could do it all over again, I'd have just left you alone - and stolen what I went there to get!" For the young woman had told her cover story about being a former thief to the entire Fang Gang, to explain why she'd been at the museum that night - before Angel and Wes had hit the road.

Cordelia's hopes were instantly crushed, with regard to what had happened. { Damn it, I guess that conversation with Xander really did all take place in my head then... } She had wanted it to be real so badly that the femme had hoped wherever his spirit was, Xander had finally forgiven her - for what had happened all those years ago.

Gwen started pacing. "So, the current situation. This thing with this person called Darla - anything I absolutely need to know?"

Cordy snorted. "You need to pray Angel doesn't do anything stupid, if worst comes to worst and she becomes a soulless monster-"

"Actually, I think you need a witch."

Both Gwen and Cordelia turned around, and saw two women - a redhead and a blonde - standing at the front doors of the Hyperion. Willow Rosenberg then looked at Tara and added, "Even better - two witches for the price of one!"

Cordelia looked in surprise at her friend from high school. "Willow! You're here..." Cordy hurried over and hugged her former classmate intensely. Normally, the former May Queen wouldn't be this enthusiastic at seeing Willow again; however, with everything going on - she was just happy to see a familiar face.

She stepped back, and looked at Willow's blonde companion. "Willow, who's your friend? Is she a witch also?"

Willow smiled slyly. "Why Cordy, you interested in my gal pal?"

Cordy looked at Willow in shock. "Gal pal? You mean this is Giles' girlfriend? Oh, that dirty old man..."

Willow shook her head. "No, Tara's MY girlfriend. See, things have changed since you left Sunnydale..."

Cordy stepped back from Willow. "What? No, that - that can't be. Because we had gym class together! We were in the same locker room, you...we showered in the same...no, you, you *can't* be gay!"

Gwen actually chuckled at that, which earned her a glare from Cordelia. Tara took the opportunity to introduce herself. "I'm Tara Maclay, I'm pleased to meet you." She offered her hand to the former cheerleader.

Cordy collected her thoughts for a second, and took the offered hand. "I'm Cordelia Chase. And likewise. And anything Willow here told you, is almost certainly a lie..."

Willow chuckled at that. And Gwen, off to the side, recognized the redhead from some of the pictures in Rupert Giles' apartment. {Another one of the women who left Harris to die?} Although Gwen normally worked alone, unless forced to do otherwise, she couldn't comprehend the thought processes that led to leaving someone to be eaten by a vampire.

Willow noticed Gwen, and looked at Cordelia. "So Cordy, who's your friend? Anything you want to tell us?"

Cordy actually paled a little bit at Willow's joke. "God, no! We've only just met, and I don't even like her. She's basically a scab-"

"Cordy!" Willow squeaked out. Because it had been a while since Willow had seen Queen C in action.

"Well, she is! She's come to replace me as the Vision Girl around here, so that makes her a job-stealing scab..." Cordy quickly explained who Gwen was, and how it had come to pass she now got the visions that Cordy had been getting. Cordy even managed to introduce the thief to the two witches.

Willow clearly sensed that her friend was not taking Gwen's arrival well. Actually - a deaf, blind mute could have sensed it also, from just the tension in the room! But suddenly the Sunnydale woman's musings were interrupted by Cordelia saying, "Willow, you picked a hell of a time to visit. Darla's..."

"Back, and she's been turned. I know," Willow replied.

That garnered a look of shock on Cordy's face. "How did you know?"

"Angel told me, when he called me. Don't you know why I'm here?"

Cordy's reply was prevented from happening, by Angel and Wesley storming into the lobby. And Angel was clearly enraged almost beyond belief.

"What happened?" Cordelia asked Wesley, as he was obviously the saner of the two.

The Englishman replied, "Well, we know Spike is hiding at a nursery somewhere, and even had some dirt delivered there. However, it looks like he used a fake address to get the package delivered - and he must have killed the deliveryman, as he's not been seen since that day. So..."

"Our only lead is a dead end," Angel finished for Wesley.

"Angel."

Angel's head turned, and he noticed Willow and Tara standing there. He suddenly beamed in delight, "Willow! I'm glad you're here. Do you have everything you need?"

"Yeah, we've got the Orb and everything else."

Wesley looked concerned. "Orb? Just what are you planning on doing, Willow?"

"Well, you see, it's like this, we're going to...we hope that..." Willow stammered, trying to find a response that wouldn't cause a firestorm in the lobby.

"I asked her to do the ensouling spell on Darla, preferably before she rises from the dead," Angel cut to the chase.

"What!?" Cordy and Wesley said in unison.

"Why would you do that?" Cordy then demanded. {Like we need *two* vamps around here, that we have to watch out don't have a moment of pure happiness?}

"This is highly irregular," Wesley lapsed for a second back to his Watcher habits.

"Look, I've told you all before - she's my responsibility. I can't just stake her, and I do *not* want to let a vampire Darla - without a soul - loose on the world again. Believe me, I've seen what she can get up to as a soulless bloodthirsty demon - and now that the Master's not around to control her, God only knows what she'd do! That's why I asked Willow to come and do the spell. So suck it up and deal," Angel announced.

"Oh - and I have some good news there, too," Willow said excitedly. "I remember enough from when I was all Dark Willow, on how to delete the happiness clause from the ritual..."

Angel's face exhibited pure shock. "What?!"

Cordy looked excited. "So, does this mean you can fix Angel? I mean, y'know, so that he doesn't have to be a eunuch anymore?"

Gwen just raised her eyebrows, as the vampire instantly looked annoyed. "Hey, could we *not* use that word again?" the Champion demanded.

Willow shook her head. "I'm sorry, but no. The soul curse can only work on a soulless vampire; Angel is...well, uh, immune to those magicks, while his soul's present. I could curse *Angelus* that way, yeah; but since that vamp is already caged up..." She turned to her old friend. "Sorry, Angel."

The Irish-born vamp seemed to just take it in stride, "That's okay, don't worry about it..." But deep down, the man was more than a little excited over the astonishing news. As if Xander was right, when he lost his soul in 2003 and Willow restored it...one day soon, the threat of Angelus would be gone for good.

Of course he would have to warn Willow about the danger she had just put herself in, as his inner demon was now howling for the lesbian girl's blood even more strongly than ever before - as it feared and hated this particular witch, more than anyone else in the world. But first, the priority around here.

Namely, Darla.

Wesley cleared his throat. "If I may ask, are you sure you can you do this - for Darla? I mean we all know you've performed such magicks before, on Angelus, but still - that spell is incredibly complex. And what is this Dark Willow you refer to?"

Willow looked ashamed for a second. She then quickly explained what had happened, when the Toth demon had split her in half. "It's kinda like Xander after that Halloween, when he was possessed by that soldier persona? He kept some of the memories and skills from the possession, and, uh, I think it's the same for me - I kept some of the skill that Dark Willow had. Basically, I have more ability to do magic than ever before. But don't worry - Tara and the others are watching, to make sure I don't go all black-eyed again." The Wicca then put down the valise she had carried in and opened it up, to take out the items she needed.

Cordelia watched, as Tara and Willow began to set up for the spell. And that, along with the earlier mention of her ex-boyfriend, suddenly brought back memories of the last time her friend had done this... { Acathla. Angelus. Buffy. Oh God, Xander... }

Willow saw Cordelia's face tighten up before anyone else did, and letting Tara take over for a moment, she went to talk to her friend - before subtly telling Angel and Wes to back off with just a look. "Hey. Guess all this is bringing back memories, huh?"

"Yeah," Cordelia nodded. "Bad ones."

"He's gone now, Cordy," the Wiccan said as gently as she could. "And this is a whole new millennium here. Xander wouldn't want you to-"

"I actually thought I talked to him last month," the brunette interrupted the other woman, as Willow started in surprise. "It was so real, too. The Xander ghost or whatever told me to let go, to move on. And I'm trying, I swear - but somehow, what I did then is too horrible for my subconscious to do the whole 'forgive and forget' routine..."

Willow had no answer for that, as she was in the exact same boat here. So she settled for giving Cordy's hand a squeeze, before the redhead rejoined her lover in the spell preparations.

**Unknown heavenly dimension. The same time**

Jasmine watched, as her plans began to unravel more and more with every passing moment.

The Power could feel the primal magicks being invoked, could feel Darla's soul - oh-so-recently freed once again, from its mortal coil - being summoned back to the earthly plane.

But then, the entity decided enough was enough. As it heard Willow begin to chant, the Power That Be latched onto the soul - and withheld its passage through to the mortal realm. _"Quod perditum est, invenietur semper..."_

Jasmine didn't know exactly what difference an ensouled Darla would make in her plan to eventually create her father the miracle child, but she didn't want to find out.

"_Nici mort, nici al fiintei. __Te invoc, spirit al trecerii..."_

Because quite frankly, too much had already gone wrong - ever since Angelus had gotten whacked on the head by his demented childe that day, back in 1998.

"_Te implor, doamne. Nu ignora accasta rugaminte, lasa orbita sa fie vasul care-i va transporta sufletul la lei!"_

Jasmine started gritting her metaphorical teeth, as Willow shouted, _"Este scris, aceasta putere este dreptul poporuil meu de a conduce. Asa sa fie! Asa sa fie! Acum!"_

To her amazement, it took all of her inhuman strength to keep Darla's soul from becoming earthbound. Jasmine then couldn't believe it as she sensed a feral snarl appearing on Willow's black-eyed face, _"Alesh ashtoreth!"_

In the lobby of the Hyperion, Tara cried out when she saw Willow's face, "Willow!" But the redheaded witch continued on with the spell, opposing Jasmine.

For the first time *ever*, the Power in question knew pain as the Hyperion hotel started shaking at its very foundations, the ground trembling as if in the grip of an earthquake. And *still* that damnable daughter of the Hebrews refused to give up, or give in...

Suddenly, Jasmine sensed the attention of the other Powers That Be; for they had felt how something unusual was happening, and were gathering to investigate. With a silent howl, the higher being yielded to the mortal witch's will and let go of Darla's soul - before the others found out what she was secretly up to, and all her plans were ruined.

Retreating into the anonymity of the group, Jasmine noted with perfectly disguised hostility how the Orb of Thesulah glowed briefly, before reuniting its cargo with the corporeal target vessel. And that Willow instantly demanded a map, to point out where the newly ensouled vampire was located to her freaked companions - before collapsing unconscious from the strain of her exertions.

Not to mention how the crazed vampire called Drusilla screamed in pain, before doing the exact same thing...

**Richmond, Virginia. The same time**

Xander Harris punched the punching bag repeatedly. To the outside observer it would appear that he was just working out, albeit with a frightening intensity. And he was in fact doing that, but the observer would not be aware of the inner dialogue also going on between Xander and the Soldier Guy - who had been part of him now, for nearly 7 years.

The essence of Donald Grant, the paratrooper killed in Vietnam, had gone into overdrive once the plight of Faith's soul had been revealed to him. The soldier had been looking at the problem from all possible angles, and coming up with many different scenarios at a mile a minute.

Clearly, just walking into Wolfram & Hart and relying on them to honor their word was not an option. As stated previously, Xander was many things, but he wasn't that much a fool.

Telling the Siberians and relying on them wasn't much better. Harris knew that once they knew that he knew...there was no way they would allow him to be involved in the attempt to retrieve his former girlfriend's soul.

Also, there was the fact that they had known about Faith's condition and hadn't told him. That clearly showed that they were afraid that he might go off on his own, to try and rescue her. They didn't trust him not to instantly go in guns blazing - and to be honest, that bugged Xander a lot.

It all came back to his memories of the history that had never happened, and the morning they'd encountered the Sisterhood of Jhe. He'd gotten knocked out in that cave, and basically the Scoobies had decided to render him fray-adjacent for the next couple of days. On something he had a personal stake in.

Xander shook his head, banishing such thoughts. Like Oz had said in England, all that was just would-have-been material now; and he had to focus. This was Faith they were talking about, the one good thing he remembered from his senior year of high school.

He had a right to know what was being done to rescue her, if anything. And suddenly, Xander had a disturbing thought - that maybe some parts of the organization he had aligned himself with...weren't doing anything to save Faith's soul. {They'd view her loss as acceptable consequence. The brass thinks in those terms. Consider what happened during the Tet Offensive, } Soldier Guy whispered in Xander's mind.

The ones who were able to help, could very well decide that the cost just wasn't justified in the grand scheme of things. Xander grunted, as he landed a particularly hard blow on the punching bag. {I guess Travers isn't such a unique attitude, after all.}

The soldier answered back in his head, {Every unit has someone like that, can't be helped. You just hope that they know boundaries about the mission. The mission may come first, but don't destroy yourself in believing that. }

Xander nodded to himself. He remembered when Buffy had gone up against the First Evil in the future history; in his opinion she had become so consumed by the fight, that the Slayer hadn't even realized how far off the rails she'd fallen. He still shuddered a little bit about how Buffy had treated Wood over the presence of Spike, the killer of the principal's mother...

Xander stepped back, and wiped some sweat from his forehead. He had contemplated going in solo, Rambo style - something which had amused the soldier persona for a few seconds, before the problems with that idea were pointed out.

That might have worked for a situation where he was going in to kill everyone within the combat zone, but since he was going there to rescue someone - someone's soul, anyway - he couldn't go in with that sort of bloody mindset. That would make it too easy for him to get killed, which clearly wasn't a good idea.

After all, storming into an enemy stronghold with no plan gets people killed, or at least someone's eye gouged out.

He needed a plan. Something that accomplished the goal of freeing Faith's soul, not leaving him a prisoner of Wolfram & Hart and at the same time give the law firm a bloody nose.

Well, one thing Xander was good at now was planning for situations such as these. And as such, the man knew he couldn't go it alone. He would need to find help.

Harris already knew he could rely upon Oz; however, the werewolf alone wouldn't be enough. The 24-year-old man also needed someone more experienced than himself, in the shadowy espionage world he now found himself inhabiting.

Gunny and Red were definitely out, as their first loyalty was to Mother Hen. Riley, Graham and any of their comrades, ditto. Any attempt to get into contact with Gunn or Angel would raise unwelcome questions, and since the Scooby gang all thought he was dead...

Xander thought briefly about confronting Cleburne in private, but decided against it. As even if, as he suspected, the Marine colonel was out of the loop on this - *nobody* could successfully lie to his face like that for long - it would put the man into an impossible position, with regard to obeying orders and doing the right thing.

Suddenly, the soldier persona whispered a name in the back of his mind.

**Townhouse outside of Washington, D.C. Two hours later**

The phone's annoying twittering jolted her awake. Her hand fumbled around on the nightstand for a second, then she found the offending instrument and put it up to the ear that wasn't scrunched up against the pillow.

"Yes?" The woman managed to say with some clarity.

"Rachael, it's me. Hall," Xander's voice woke up the Israeli secret agent instantly.

"Alexander? What's wrong?" Something bad must have happened for Xander to call her.

"Nothing's wrong. Just thought I would give you a call," was the calm reply.

"What?" Rachael now was confused and worried, a phone call out of the blue from an individual whose existence was one of the most closely guarded secrets in the world - well, it wasn't something that happened every day. "Do you even know what time it is?"

"Yeah, about three in the morning. Couldn't sleep. Listen, you want to drive down here and have dinner tonight? Oz and I were feeling like having some company..."

**Abandoned nursery, Los Angeles, California. Nearly four hours later**

Spike looked at Dru with some worry, a few minutes before daybreak. She had been muttering incoherently ever since she had woken up after collapsing, hours ago. And all Spike could make out was something about a witch, and her grandmother...

It reminded him of the night Angel had lost his soul in Sunnydale, and Angelus had come back into their un-lives. So, William was worried enough that he had ordered his minions and the commandos from Wolfram & Hart to double the guard, around the nursery where they were based.

He again silently wished that Darla would hurry up and rise, so she could then get on with turning the magnificent poof back to the dark side, as it were. He figured the three of them should be able to do what Wolfram & Hart wanted in a couple of days, and then it would be time to receive their well-earned payment.

Spike's thoughts of what he could do with the money were interrupted by a shout from outside. He turned to the door to go out, as he couldn't see what was going on outside - given the windows of the greenhouse had been painted black to keep out the sunlight.

Luckily, Spike did not shun the modern-day tools of human society the way most vampires seemed to. He took the walkie-talkie of the pocket of his leather duster, "What the hell's goin' on out there?" the Bloody One snapped into the device.

After a few seconds, the device crackled as a reply came through. "Some kids running through the parking lot. Can't be more than teenagers, if that. We yelled at them a bit to scare them off."

Spike immediately recalled the Slayer and her friends, who had repeatedly thwarted him in Sunnydale, had been almost all teenagers. His sense of some form of danger approaching kicked in, "How many of them? Were they armed? Where did they go?"

"Don't know, boss, want me to chase after them?"

Spike sighed in exasperation. "No, you bloody dunce! It's almost sunrise. I want minions, not the contents of a dust buster!" Spike lowered the walkie-talkie for a second. "I swear, luv," he said to Dru. "These idiots that those moron lawyers supplied us with are bloody useless! Remind me to complain about that, and try to get some more money off of 'em for it..."

Dru didn't answer him, she just sat there and continued mumbling about "Grandmother" and "the witch".

Spike shook his head, and keyed the walkie-talkie to send again. "Get some of those of wannabe soldiers from the lawyers, and have them go take a look. Understand, Lucas?" He waited for a response.

Only silence reached his ears. "Lucas? LUCAS!"

"Bugger it!" Spike muttered to himself, and started to walk out of the nursery into the business area in front. "Everybody, listen up - the white hats are 'ere, so head to the display room and we'll-"

But he didn't get a chance to tell them what to do. As when Spike stepped into the display room - a large room in front used by the nursery to display their products, in the days when it was open to the living public - a roar and then a shattering of glass preceded Angel's convertible crashing through the front window.

Spike jumped back, silently thankful that the building faced west. "They're here!" he screamed out to the few dazed denizens that had been in the display room.

Indeed, Willow had *finally* woken up and done a locator spell along with Tara - who had been almost out of her mind with worry about the redhead, and not focusing on anything else. Not knowing anything about that though, Spike saw the driver's side door of the car with very tinted windows open up, and the ensouled vampire that was right now the bane of his existence step out.

Angel saw one of the vampires that were on his to-do list for dusting this morning, standing in the doorway openmouthed. "Where is she, Spike? Tell me right now, and I might be satisfied with just staking you," he growled at his grandchilde.

Spike snapped himself out of the shock he'd been in. "Get him!" he shouted to the commandos and vampires in the display room, and those running into it in response to the crash. Spike did some quick math in his head, and felt comfortable attacking Angel with the almost three to one odds against the souled vampire.

Suddenly though, accompanied by the shouts of a dozen throats, Gunn led his Lost Boys charging into the display room through the opening created by Angel's car. { Gee, can't the big wanker do anything by himself? } Spike thought to himself in annoyance, as he saw the odds even up rather quickly.

Spike moved forward to attack Angel, but stopped when he heard the voice of Drusilla. "Spike? SPIKE! It's happening, my precious 'eart, she's coming..."

Spike smiled viciously at Angel, and then ran back into the nursery. Spike knew that with three Master vampires such as themselves, nothing could stop them now. Maybe they could even take out those lawyers. Spike liked the idea of being the boss - even in part - of a city containing 10 million people...

He ran into the nursery, and saw the dirt where he had buried Darla rolling back and forth. "All right!" Spike called out, pumping his fist up in the air. "We'll show that bloody nance what bein' bad is all about..."

He hurried forward to where Dru was. She had now stopped mumbling, and seemed to have regained what passed for normalcy with her. "Oh, oh! Grandmother's coming, but Spike, the stars...the stars tell me..."

Spike put his hand on Drusilla's shoulder, calming her down. "Don't worry pet, she's one of us now - and not a walking Happy Meal anymore!"

Angel burst through the door. "You're too late, mate, 'cause ya know what? It's showtime!" Spike called out sneeringly to the other male vamp, and gestured.

Suddenly Darla sat up, bursting through the dirt. Her mouth was working as if she was trying to take in deep breaths, even though she didn't need oxygen anymore. She looked around in wild-eyed terror and finally managed to gasp out, "What...where...where am I..."

"You're back, luv! We'll have a party!" Spike shouted out. Holding his arms out wide in an imitation of a game show host, trying to excite his audience.

Angel looked in part-dread and part-hope at his sire. "Darla?" he called out.

Darla's head snapped around at the sound of Angel's voice. "Angelus? What's happened?"

Angel looked at Darla, looking for a sign that Willow's spell had worked. He could tell she was struggling with the demon that was now inside her. "We were attacked in the Hyperion-"

"Yes, I-I remember that, Spike and Drusilla came in and..." Darla' voice trailed off, as her memory of the events of the last 24 hours returned. "I was grabbed from behind. Dru bit me, I remember her drinking from me..."

Darla put her hand up to her mouth. She felt the dried blood. "And she made me drink from her. She...she made me into this. I'm a vampire again..."

"No, no, no! Grandmother came back, she's back but she's not happy!" Dru suddenly shouted from the corner of the room.

William the Bloody misunderstood what that meant. "Don't worry Darla, we'll get ya something to eat - and you'll be as good as new, ducks. Maybe even better! Come on, there's a whole bunch o' white hats out in the front room. We'll get you breakfast, alright?" Spike said, stepping forward to lead Darla to the promised blood bags.

Darla struggled to her feet. The look on her face was dark. Angel wondered if it was because Darla needed to feed, or something else. {This might get ugly, if the soul curse didn't work.}

But right then, a vampire from the front room ran by Angel to report to Spike. "Sir! There's too many of them, we need your help out there..."

Darla grabbed the vampire, and easily broke his left arm. A loud snap echoed across the room. "She bit me. Then she forced me to drink..." Darla looked down at the vampire who was now cradling his broken arm, and whimpering in pain.

"Don't *ever* interrupt me," she said curtly, before continuing. "Dru turned me. After all I went through, Angel, trying to get *you* to turn me...searching for a cure to the syphilis. Looking through all those books. Contemplating my life, and what I had done." The blonde saw the shovel that Spike had been using earlier, and quickly walked over to it.

Darla turned and looked at Spike and Dru, with a truly vicious glare. "I had made peace with myself, you know. I was willing to endure what was coming. I had made my choice-"

"Choice? You were human! Tell me a sodding other one-" Spike sputtered out.

Darla looked at the younger vampire with a great fury, she then picked up the shovel and broke it over her knee. It snapped in two easily. Darla then grabbed the top of the shovel, and threw it. Staking the messenger vampire that was in pain, right through his heart.

"I wanted to stay human," the 400-year-old woman declared, as the vampire turned to dust.

"Well, didn't see that coming," Spike muttered to himself. And there was no more time for talk, as he quickly defended himself when Darla attacked him.

Drusilla screamed out, "NO! I knew it, I knew it, this is all the nasty witch's doing! She made Grandmother all wrong, she has, and she's poisoned Daddy's mind like apples in a brewery. Her and my kitten. The kitten's paid for his sins, and now she'll 'ave to as well..."

Meanwhile, seeing that Darla was in possession of her soul, Angel said a silent prayer and launched himself into the combat.

Spike threw off Darla, as she hit the ground near the wall. The newly-risen vamp saw a crack of light through the painted window, "Tell you what, Spike, let me show you the light..." With that, Darla swung up the bottom of the shovel that she was still holding, and smashed a section of the greenhouse wall.

A wall that was made of glass.

A wall that faced east, and so allowed the light beams of the rising sun to shoot in.

Right towards the door leading to the front room, where Angel had just been standing before jumping towards Drusilla.

And incinerated three vampire minions that had been coming to see what was going on, and the escape the onslaught of the combined Fang Gang and Lost Boys.

"Bugger it, you lousy bint!" Spike shouted out. "Watch it, or you'll get all dusty too!"

Darla smiled at William the Bloody with a smile that would have chilled Spike's blood, if he'd had any body heat left. "I know, but you'll go to Hell first..." With that, she launched herself at Spike.

Spike rolled back, as Darla landed on top of him and punched him. Dru went to help her lover, but was intercepted by an uppercut from Angel.

"Now let's keep it fair, Dru, don't cut into their fun," Angel smirked at her.

"Daddy, why won't you get better? You're all sick now," she whined at Angel.

Angel didn't reply, knowing it was a trick by Drusilla to distract him. Instead, he just blocked the punch that his female childe sent his way.

"You know Dru, for a seer - you suck! As you should have seen that I wouldn't be fooled by that..." Angel kicked out and hit Dru hard in the stomach. She fell back against another part of the glass window, cracking it but not breaking it.

Dru shook her head, and stood back up. "Daddy, please, you've been bad. You goin' to discipline me, say I've been naughty?"

"No, *I'm* the one that's going to do that!" Darla suddenly appeared in front of Drusilla, and punched her hard in the face. She fell back again, and the glass broke this time. Then Dru was engulfed by the deadly sunshine, smoke beginning to come from her.

"Dru!" Spike called out from the ground where he had been knocked down. He jumped up, and ran over to protect his love, covering the both of them with his leather duster. "C'mon luv, we'll take care o' these bloody do-gooders later!"

With that the two of them, covered up with Spike's duster, semi-crawled around the corner. A few seconds later, the sound of a fleeing car could be heard.

Darla looked at the sunlight, and took a step forward. But Angel leapt at his sire, and knocked her out of the way. Darla teared up, "Why, Angel, why did you do that? I could have finally ended it-"

Angel looked at her. "I wouldn't let you end it as a human, and I won't let you end it now! Darla, I've got some things to tell you; see, the situation is, you've still got a very important role to play..."

TBC...


	24. Chapter 24

**Part Twenty-four**

**Richmond, Virginia. January 17, 2001**

Rachael Weitz drove along the street, towards the residence of Xander Harris and Daniel Osbourne. And she was not in a good mood this evening.

After the strange phone call from the former Scooby during the night, Rachael had of course reported it at once to the embassy - and the embassy had instantly ordered her to appear for some questions, in the morning. And the secret agent hadn't liked that, not at all.

Because as Rachael had dreaded, the Mossad station chief had wanted to talk to her.

The ugly truth was, as Xander had more than suspected at the time, that Ms. Weitz had been given this assignment not only because she was well qualified to act as an observer to Siberian Trip Wire - but also since she was a beautiful woman, and resembled Faith more than just the average person on the street. The thinking had been that Xander would not be able to resist her advances, at least not for long, as he was a man - and practically all men had certain...needs.

But unfortunately, Rachael hadn't gotten anywhere in months of trying to break through the temporal-displaced refugee's defenses. And if not for her contacts back home, she almost certainly would have been hauled away by now, for the Israelis to send someone else to get to Xander Harris - to sleep with him, and hopefully learn all the secrets he wasn't sharing with STW.

Well, such is the spy business; it's a dirty job, but someone's gotta do it.

But now, the people at the embassy were thinking Xander had started warming up to her, as a dinner invitation - even in the middle of the night - was a good sign. For her country, that is; for Rachael, not so much...

Because she had been ordered not to be 'coy' any longer. Weitz had almost laughed out loud at the use of that word by her superior, as her attentions towards Xander Harris hadn't exactly been coy or subtle! But in any case, the big man in Washington had flat-out told her to ditch the werewolf by any and all means possible, and seduce Harris tonight - or else.

That had left a bad taste in Rachael's mouth, to be honest. Because this wasn't just an assignment anymore; she had definitely started developing feelings for the guy, despite all training and common sense to the contrary.

With a sigh, the brunette spy arrived and quickly rang on the doorbell. But what she wasn't expecting was to be yanked inside, and shoved up against the wall in the foyer.

To her shock, Xander leaned close to her face; his forearm against her throat and pinning her in place, he coldly asked a single question. "Did you know about what's happened to Faith?"

"What-?" the Jewish woman stuttered, choking from the pressure and never having expected this.

Harris leaned forward, staring into her eyes and not giving her a chance to react. "Did you *know* how Wolfram & Hart had captured her soul?"

Rachael almost shook her head. "No, I-"

But Xander had already let go, and put away the stiletto he had concealed in his hand before Rachael had rung the doorbell. He turned to Oz and said succinctly, "She's clean."

The musician frowned. "A lot's depending on whether you've guessed right..."

The former slave grinned nastily. "Trust me, dude; because yours truly spent nearly 5 years in a place where if you trusted the wrong person, the demons turned you into dead meat! She's not lying, I got me no doubts Rachael's on the level here..."

Harris then felt a tap on his shoulder, before Weitz's fist headed straight for his face - in retaliation for what he'd just done. But ducking aside instantly, Xander captured her hand and squeezed *hard*; yelping, Rachael jumped back as Harris let go with a scowl. "Sorry about the little test - but don't try to do that again. You get one free shot, and that's all. I'm warning you..."

Clutching her right hand in pain, the female Israeli spy just demanded angrily, "All right, just what the hell is going on here?!"

**Byron's Lobster House, Richmond, Virginia. Later that night**

"You're insane!" That was Rachael's stated opinion, after Xander had finished telling her what he was thinking.

Oddly enough, she had gone out to dinner with Xander and Oz at a local seafood restaurant despite recent events, after the young woman had made a phone call to the embassy - and told her boss about Harris' actions, without telling him the reason for them. The senior spy had just sighed...

...and told her to forget the seduction scenario, until further notice. And thus, Rachael had gladly done so. {I swear, if I didn't find the big lunkhead so drop-dead gorgeous, I'd have kicked this guy's ass into next week for the stunt he pulled tonight!}

Earlier in the day Xander had talked to Oz, taking the necessary precautions to avoid being overheard, explaining the situation with Faith's soul. Oz had taken the news with the calm face that Xander had expected, although he thought he had seen the werewolf's eyebrow twitch up when the news of the soul being held captive had been told him. Harris had then detailed the plan he had come up with to get Faith out of the clutches of the evil lawyers in Los Angeles, and enlist Rachael's help in doing so.

Oz had voiced his concerns to Xander. And the so-called Timetripper had agreed that it sounded dangerous, but asked that Oz reserve his final decision until they'd talked to Rachael.

Over dinner in a corner of the restaurant, Xander had told the Israeli woman what was going on, and his plan to deal with the situation. Like Oz, she'd had concerns - not to mention issues. She was just more forthcoming in voicing her opinion of Xander's mental state.

"Don't hold back, Rachael, tell me what you really think," Xander quipped at Rachael's opinion.

"I'm serious, *Mr. Hall*! This plan you've come up with is downright insane, too. It depends on everything going off exactly as you planned! The slightest thing going wrong, and it spirals off into disaster-"

Xander nodded. "I agree. It's a finely tuned plan. But it'll work."

"Oh, come on! I know you've got that soldier persona kibbutzing around in your head; he'll tell you that no plan ever completely survives contact with the enemy. And this one is worse, since you have no margin for error! I think you should forget the whole thing, and just tell the colonel what's going on. You're gambling an awful lot on his reactions to your little scheme-"

Xander shook his head. "No, because we all know that won't work. There is no way in hell once he knows what's going on, that Mother Hen will let me go anywhere near Los Angeles. And there's no guarantee that he'll be able to get anywhere near the orb with Faith in it! My way, at least it gives us a better than even chance to find out where the orb is being held..."

Rachael looked concerned and shook her head. "There are better ways to pull this off-"

"And those ways involve too much risk of not getting Faith back. So we gotta go with my idea. End of discussion," Xander said.

"No it's not! Look, Alexander, this isn't exactly what you'd call a...a standard hostage rescue scenario. Because the kidnap victim, she's already dead..." Rachael said, hoping for Xander to see reason.

"You should know better than that by now," Xander snapped. "Her soul exists here, in this world. Rachael - everything that Faith is, or was, those bastards are holding prisoner. So that's good enough for me!"

Rachael looked at Xander, and noted how he looked fiercely determined to do something. "Hall, think this through logically. You have to-"

Xander interrupted her. "No. I am not leaving her there, that is *not* an option. I don't care about the big picture. I don't care about what's coming in the future. I don't care about the national interest. What I know is that a comrade in arms, a...friend of mine is in need. I am not going to leave her in the lurch like that-"

For a moment, Xander flashed back to the night outside the Bronze, and felt the pain all over again when Lenny bit into him. { NO! }

Then he pulled himself together, "Look, I know what it's like to be left behind like that. Trust me, it's one of the worst feelings in the world. Feeling abandoned by your friends, knowing that you've been left to die..." His face grew grim. "I am not going to let Faith feel that. Even though she's dead, her soul can still feel. Her only hope is that we'll come for her."

"Still, there has got to be a better way!" the Israeli secret agent insisted.

"For nearly 24 hours I've gone over and over the situation in my head, Rachael. Nonstop, if you can think of a solution with a better chance of getting Faith out of there, tell me now. Otherwise, this is the plan we're going with."

Rachael leaned back and folded her arms. "Going in like that is stupid."

"Maybe, but it's the lesser choice of a whole lot of terrible evils," Xander declared.

"Hmm. Sounds like you've already made your mind up," Rachael said, with almost a pouting quality to her voice.

"I have."

"Then what do you need *me* for?" she asked.

"Well, I have to get to Los Angeles. I'm thinking me buying a plane ticket or flying under my own name might start some alarm bells ringing." It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that the Siberians were obsessing with airline passenger lists, in light of what was coming in September. Xander knew that if his name showed up on any such list, assuming the guard dogs even let it get that far, that flight would attract an incredible amount of attention.

Rachael looked at Oz. "If it's a matter of buying a ticket, why not get Osbourne to buy one?"

Xander shook his head. "No, his name would set off the alarm bells as well. You know how the Siberians operate. Their net is cast so wide these days, that any name associated with me would raise a red flag. Hell, that's how they found me in the first place; they knew what name to look for, and kept watch for it till I showed up at that bus station in San Francisco."

Comprehension came to Rachael. "You want me to get you to Los Angeles underneath the radar?"

Xander nodded. "Underneath everyone's radar."

Rachael quickly figured out what Xander meant. "Even from my own people? Oy vey! You don't ask for much, do you?!"

The woman already knew that if she did as she was asked, she would have to do it without the help of the entire Mossad network within the United States. Rachael knew enough of how her agency worked to understand that more than a few people of responsibility in it, might get ideas of taking advantage of the situation - to spirit away the prize, as Xander was sometimes referred to as, back to Israel.

"Look, Alexander, you're asking for a helluva lot. And when all's said and done, I'm a patriot-"

"I know," Xander interrupted Rachael. "I'm not asking you to do anything that will harm the state of Israel. I wouldn't do that-"

"Yeah, but you winding up in the hands of those lawyers could lead to things that would harm my country, along with a whole lot of others! You have to weigh all the possible outcomes here."

"I think she's right, Xander," Oz had never really gotten used to calling his old friend by his alias in private. "Any way you want to paint it, you're taking a big risk in doing this. And it could end up a real disaster if anything goes wrong. Disaster along the lines of, say, Buffy sleeping with Angel-type bad..." Oz knew it was a calculated risk mentioning the Slayer and the events of their junior year in high school, but he was hoping it would be enough to make Xander reconsider his position.

For a moment, hurt flashed in Xander's eyes. Then it quickly vanished, as the temporally displaced warrior regained control over his emotions. "I know the risks are high. I know it could go all horribly wrong. However, I can *not* just leave Faith there, or hope that someone else eventually decides to do something about it. Like I said, that's not an option."

Xander paused for a second. There were parts of his plan that he wasn't ready to share with Oz and Rachael just yet. "I understand the risks, but thing is - I've got something in mind to try to deal with them..."

**Georgetown, Washington D.C. January 18, 2001**

Cleburne knocked on the door, and entered Esther's office. "Morning..."

"Good morning, Joshua," Esther responded. "Anything to report?"

Cleburne sat down across from Esther's desk. "No, nothing major. That vamp nest in Oklahoma City is dust in the wind." Cleburne chuckled a little at his own joke. "We're also picking up rumblings about some kind of vampire activity in Alaska."

"I see you've also been busy in some other ways..." Esther turned the monitor of her computer, so that Cleburne could see it.

The Marine then saw that the Internet Explorer software package was on the web page denoted www dot timetripper dot com. "Uh, I can explain that."

Esther cocked her head and looked at Cleburne. "You can explain why this website is now reporting that the 'Timetripper' was the subject of an interstellar summit meeting, between President-elect Bush and aliens from outer space?"

Cleburne nodded his head. "Yes, my explanation is that I planted the story."

"And you did this, why?"

"Come on, Esther! This makes the people out there, take this website much less seriously than before. Which I admit wasn't much to begin with, but I figure why take any chances? This way, if that wacko actually manages to get some proof, we can always say that she talks about aliens."

"And the picture of Bush with these so-called aliens?"

"Hey, the boys in the computer lab loved the idea. They set up me up with the program to do it and everything," Cleburne replied with a look of amusement on his face.

Esther smiled. "I see. In that spirit, I thought you might like to know that the Watchers Council is about to get a little surprise. Something that should make them sit up, and take notice. Hopefully afterwards, they won't be as much of a bother as they've been in the past. Speaking of the Watchers being a bother, I hear Lt. Hall had a visitor last night?" the black woman commented.

The Marine colonel chuckled. "Weitz went down there for dinner, at his invitation. Actually, I'm sort of glad; I was getting kinda worried about Harris acting as if he was a monk or something, all this time. Professionally speaking, it's good to see the kid starting to loosen up a bit. And Rachael will be good for him..."

Esther raised an eyebrow at that comment. "You're not worried about Weitz?"

The Marine waved his dismissively at Esther's question. "Nah, she can take of herself; it's the kid you should be worried about."

Esther chuckled at that. "Well, anyway, I called you here for a reason."

"So what's the mission? Vampires, werewolves, witches gone bad? What creepy-crawly do I gotta deal with now?"

Esther smiled at the question. "Actually, it's the return of a golden oldie. Been a while, I know, but we *do* still deal with terrorists..." She slid a folder, with a photograph attached to it, across the desk. "Recognize him?"

Cleburne leaned over, and picked up the file. He looked at the photograph, and snorted. "Oh yeah, Mikhail Notenchenko. He was a colonel in the KGB. Back in the Eighties, he was chief liaison with a variety of terrorists groups in the Middle East. Went private sector in the mid-Nineties; but had to leave Russia, as Putin really doesn't like him on a personal level. Last I heard, he had set up shop in Rome, selling AK-47s and RPGs and whatever else he could find to anyone who could afford it..."

Esther nodded at Cleburne's recall. "Well, I'm afraid he's expanded his product line."

Cleburne looked up, halfway knowing what was coming. "What's he selling now?"

"Biological weapons, I'm sorry to say."

**Richmond, Virginia. Later that day**

Xander finished writing the email he had spent the last hour composing. Rachael and Oz had been right about his plan requiring almost everything going as planned, for it to work. That required the timing to work out *precisely* as Xander hoped. He would only have a tiny window of opportunity for it to work; once the opportunity passed, he wouldn't get another one.

Rachael had continued trying to convince Xander to tell the Siberians what was going on. Oz had joined in on occasion, although with less vigor, the werewolf having less experience dealing with them than the Israeli secret agent. Xander, however, would not be swayed from his course.

The young man knew that at some level, his actions were irrational, the soldier persona whispered that in his ear - but he just found it impossible to be sidelined with this situation. Harris needed to act knowing that someone he cared about, well her soul anyway, was in trouble. It was, as Lilah had guessed in the video message, the old White Knight syndrome coming to the fore.

Still, despite what Rachael and Oz may have thought, he wasn't a fool. Xander knew just how dangerous the path he had chosen was going to be. More than once, he had convinced himself to tell the others what was going to happen, only to change his mind - for their own safety.

The man then saved the email to disk. He didn't know when the break for Los Angeles would take place, so he didn't want to set a time for the email to be sent just yet. Xander knew he had to be sure of the timing.

He also knew that the Siberians could do a lot to prevent him from doing anything they considered foolish. The Californian had never forgotten the story of the boy who could read minds, who was now in a drug-induced coma at a clinic right here in Virginia. He could very easily himself wind up locked away in an underground cell, after all he hadn't heard hide nor hair of Ethan Rayne since the election scam he had tried in Florida last year.

Harris knew the Siberians were capable of drastic measures, when they thought they were called for.

Indeed, he was hoping for just that capacity in his upcoming plan...

**Washington, D.C. The same time**

Rachael Weitz sat in the chair with her fingers in front of her, pushing against each other like a church steeple, considering her options.

Since she hadn't been able to talk the guys out of this, the woman knew there was no other option; she had to get papers and transportation for them. The only other choice was Harris getting himself locked up by the Siberians, for his own safety - and in that case, Rachael would lose her access to him...

So she had to go along with the whole nutbar plan - keeping a close eye on the loose cannon and his sidekick, of course.

Weitz sighed, knowing this wasn't going to be easy. Normally, she would be able to use the resources of her organization. However, that wasn't possible here. For the moment, she had been able to fool her superiors as to what was going on; they believed that Xander had momentarily buckled under the stress of his situation.

Which was perfectly understandable. Rachael knew that back home, several experts had been consulted concerning the mental health of Xander Harris, and their consensus was that some form of breakdown was inevitable.

She suspected that the Siberians had some people on staff here, who had told them the exact same thing. The spy knew that there was a Dr. Angleman within STW, who was treating - well, *trying* to treat - Harris on a regular basis, for suspected psychosis.

Still, Rachael didn't accept that. She just didn't believe Xander was headed for a padded cell, the way the so-called experts did.

Oh, Weitz knew that much of his behaviour would be considered abnormal or questionable, by most human standards. However, Xander Harris almost *defined* abnormal; after all, the guy knew exactly what was coming for the next 2 1/2 years. He had spent nearly a quarter of his life in that hell dimension. And he had grown up with the knowledge of demons and vampires...the same way other kids grew up with baseball statistics and other sporting activities...

Bottom line, Rachael had seen enough of Xander in action to know that he hadn't lost his capacity for rational actions. He just sometimes didn't use that capacity.

Anyway, she had seen the exact same thing in quite a few people like him, in her line of work. Field agents often exhibited pathological behaviour; after all - what completely rational person willingly enters the lethal shadow world of black ops? Rational people stayed at home, they became doctors, architects or lawyers with 2.4 kids and a mortgage. They didn't plunge headlong into the night looking for terrorists, vampires and demons...

So the Israeli woman accepted that Xander knew what he was doing, just not that it was a good idea.

Her mind snapped back to the problem at head. Okay, so she couldn't use her people - they would know something was up, and take steps to secure advantage from it. And Rachael knew that she couldn't stop that, even with her influence back home.

That meant unofficial resources for this one. Of course, she needed to find someone good enough to do the job, and not breach the confidence required. And that limited the number of choices Rachael had, particularly since she was working with a pretty short amount of time here.

The ringing of her doorbell interrupted her musings. And Weitz was surprised to see Monsignor Bentallo standing there, when she opened the door.

"Good evening, my child. May I come in?"

Rachael stood aside to allow the Catholic official to enter. She shut the door as he did so, "Monsignor! Welcome to my home. And I hope you don't find this offensive, but I'm in a hurry - so what can I do for you?" 

Bentallo just smiled in response. "It's more along the lines of what *I* can do for *you* - and Lt. Hall."

**Los Angeles, California. Later that night**

Lindsey MacDonald pushed the 'end call' button on his cell phone. This had been the fourth time today that Spike had phoned him, to complain about not getting paid. And each time, Lindsey had told the vampire to read the terms of their contract - that he hadn't upheld his end of the bargain to turn Darla into a soulless vampire, and thus Wolfram & Hart wasn't going to pay up.

Each time William the Bloody had declared that part of it wasn't his fault, and he had done everything asked of him. And with each phone call, Spike's ire had grown; just now a whole string of British curses, most of which the one-handed man didn't even know what they meant, had voluminously blasted the lawyer's ears.

Lindsey was just glad that he hadn't been in the physical presence of the vampire, or his insane companion. He would have been fearful of his physical safety in such a situation; and given the threat potential, the Texan had already alerted the firm's security today to be on the lookout for the undead version of Sid and Nancy.

Lindsey had also taken personal precautions for his apartment; and he was now trying to think of ways to increase his safety during the commute to and from work, but apart from stakes and crosses couldn't think of anything. The man silently cursed to himself, {This is just typical.}

The plan had been for Spike and Drusilla to make life miserable for Angel, not the people - well, some of them were people - who had hired the duo. The whole plan with turning Angel back to the dark side was rapidly falling apart, and *he* was the one who would be blamed for dropping the ball. Lindsey pocketed his cell phone, and saw Lilah looking at him with a smug expression on her face.

Lindsey idly wondered what, other than his misfortune, she had so much to be pleased with. Office gossip was that her project involving Xander Harris, a.k.a. the Timetripper, was stalled. Although come to think of it, his immediate superior Holland Manners had also seemed very pleased recently, the few times he had asked Lilah about that project.

At that moment, Holland entered the room, where a gathering of the Special Projects division of lawyers were present having cocktails. "Ladies and gentlemen, if you're ready we can all adjourn to the wine cellar. I have some finger food and drinks ready for us down there." He smiled, as the attorneys followed him downstairs.

Lilah grabbed Lindsey, just as the male attorney was about to march off with the others. "Wait up."

The man cocked an eyebrow, "Why?"

"We need to talk."

**Half a mile away. The same time**

"Bollocks!" Spike slammed his palm onto the steering wheel of the car. A crushed cell phone lay beneath his feet. "Where do they get off, treatin' us like this? We did everything they wanted, luv, and we woulda been successful too - if the bloody fools had bothered to warn us that that damn witch was gonna get in the way!"

Spike had quickly figured out that it must have been Willow who had cast that spell ensouling Darla, there was no one else he knew that had the skill. {Shoulda killed her way back when I had the chance! Damn that silver-colored demon wanker, what stopped me that night.}

In any case, William took the position that her intervention was something outside the terms of his contract, something that the insurance people would call 'an act of God'. Therefore, he had earned the money that the demonic law firm had promised him. He wanted that money, too - beer and cigarettes didn't exactly grow on trees here, after all.

Spike had grown increasingly more and more frustrated, as his efforts to get paid had come up with no results. He had even tried going in person, well in vampire, to the law firm to argue his case. But he hadn't even been able to get past security! Normally, security guards wouldn't have fazed *this* vampire, but when the security guard was a nine-foot-tall demon - well, that had caused Spike to decide on something a bit more subtle.

Like finding out where this party was, that he had heard two interns in the parking garage talking about before he'd had dinner. They had been bickering over what to wear, and had mentioned a dress store that everyone who would be attending the party had patronized...

And needless to say, the staff at the dress store had been most helpful as to where the cocktail gathering was. Spike figured that he could find Lindsey MacDonald leaving said party, and express his...displeasure in person.

Next to him Drusilla suddenly said to herself, "The stars warned me, they did; they spoke of the naughty witch, said she was coming..."

Dru's mumbling caused Spike to realize something. "Seers. Those bleedin' seers that firm uses must've seen what was going to happen. They could have warned us..." Spike then grew *very* angry. "Wait, that's it! They knew we were gonna face more 'n two pansy vampires. They musta wanted us dusted, so they wouldn't 'ave to pay up! Oh, those right bastards!" He slammed the steering wheel several times, with enough force to rock the whole car.

Spike sat there and stewed for a few minutes. Then he reached down, and turned the ignition of the automobile on. The vamp instantly started to drive off, heading for a destination that he kept to himself.

Dru looked at her boyfriend. "Where are we going, my precious Spoike?" she asked in that sing-song voice, oddly happy in her own weird way.

William the Bloody just grinned, with that grin of his that indicated a large amount of violence was about to happen. For this was Spike the Master vampire, and not some chipped white hat. "I want to collect on our fee, ducks, in person. And if I can't get money, well, there are other forms of payment..."

**Ten minutes later**

Holland Manners looked up as his little speech was interrupted, when someone slammed shut the doors into the wine cellar with a loud bang. He recognized the two vampires in front of him, and suddenly knew fear. Even more fear than he felt when he dealt with the Senior Partners, for they at least wouldn't kill him without reason...

"Hello there, mates - hope you don't mind, but the little woman let us in!" Spike declared to the roomful of lawyers. Then the male vampire laughed at Holland, "She was one decently tasty snack, too! Shoulda warned the missus never to invite anyone in, ya dumb git - even if they look like they'd just been in a car accident..."

{Catherine.} Holland thought in horrified regret. "Spike. Drusilla. What brings you here?"

"You," Dru replied dreamily, seeming to stare off into space - as the moon and the stars whispered their secrets to her.

William the Bloody, ignoring the comment of his beloved, laughed again in genuine amusement. "Now, that's a good one! Well, why don't ya take a wild stab at why we're 'ere - you sodding cheapskate?" His face becoming a horrible scowl with that last phrase.

**Richmond, Virginia. The same time**

Xander Harris copied the email message from the disk to the computer. He then quickly set up the message to send, in 12 hours. He figured that would be enough time for him to get to Los Angeles. Rachael had said that she had air transport arranged that should get them to LA, in a couple of hours.

Harris figured they could set up camp in the City of Angels for about a day or so, before he made his move. That should be long enough for his plans to come to fruition...

Or so he thought. Unfortunately, Xander had no way of knowing that his email would actually remain unread longer than he expected, for the person he was counting on reading it...was at this moment, flying across the Atlantic on his way to Italy.

Unaware that his plan had already hit its first deadly flaw, Xander hit the send button on the computer. He then turned off the machine, and stood up. The young man quickly grabbed his jacket, and headed to the roof of the apartment building.

Over time, the strictness of the surveillance upon him had lessened, as he'd become more and more part of the team. Plus, Oz had been a big help with that sort of duty; not only was the werewolf an infinitely better guard than almost anyone else due to his supernatural abilities, he was someone whose presence Harris could tolerate. And so, there was just less hassle all around if the two of them were simply left alone in the house.

Still, Xander suspected that someone would notice him walking out the front door, as Cleburne hadn't relaxed surveillance *that* much. So, it was a roof exit for him. Oz had already left, taking his guitar with him so it looked like he was going out to play at one of the bars he frequented. And no one watching the building from the street had thought anything of that.

Xander got to the roof, the cold January night causing him to involuntarily shiver. He zipped up the jacket to try and ward off the cold. Still, the man knew that the cold here in Virginia was not as bad as elsewhere; after all, he had visited Hollins at his office in Urbana during the winter often enough, to feel *real* cold. {Lord help me, am I getting used to this kind of weather? No! It can't be true! }

Yes, Xander knew this was mild compared to Illinois. Of course, compared to the winters in Sunnydale that he had grown up with, well - January nights in Virginia were almost freezing compared to those. {Maybe one day, I can move back to good ol' southern California. Still - that's not possible for years yet, if ever.}

He looked around, to make sure he was alone. Satisfied that he was the solo person on the roof, Xander clambered down the fire escape to the street behind the apartment building. He then pulled a balaclava out of his jacket pocket, right before he dropped to the street; pulling the balaclava over his head, Harris figured just in case someone was looking, this might disguise his appearance a little bit. {Or make them think you're going to rob a liquor store! } He quickly made his way down the street towards the nearby park.

After a few minutes, Xander saw his destination. He looked up and down the street to see if she was here. And then 30 yards from him, a car roared to life, making its way to where Xander was standing.

"Hey there, handsome. Want to party?" Rachael said, as she leaned over from the driver's seat and opened the passenger door for Xander.

He quickly got in, tearing the covering off his head. "I bet you say that to all the guys!" Harris retorted.

"Only the ones I like - and want to take home, to meet Mother!" Rachael replied easily, as she started to drive through the early morning streets of Richmond.

"Oz taken care of?" Xander asked, after a few minutes.

Rachael nodded. "Yes, he's already at the airfield. And he was even able to get some sets in at that club he likes to play at, before he left! The man seemed happy." Rachael paused for a second. "You know, it's not too late to-"

"Yes it is," Xander said with finality. "The email's been sent. So either we do this, or we part company - right now!"

Rachael stared at him, but said nothing. In fact, the two of them were silent for the rest of the trip to the airport; as there was nothing left to say on the matter. But internally, Weitz was fuming... {Bull-headed jerk! I swear to God, Cleburne must be teaching this guy his people skills.}

In the end, Rachael pulled the car up into a secluded hangar. There was a Lear jet in front of it, and Xander could see Oz standing next to the plane. He got out of the car and headed over to the werewolf, while Rachael parked the vehicle.

"Looks like she came through," Xander commented to his friend.

"Well - she had a little help, my son..."

Xander turned at the new voice and saw Monsignor Bentallo standing in the doorway of the jet, motioning the newcomers to board the plane. "Please hurry, my children - we have a long way to travel, and not much time in which to make the trip..."

He noticed Xander's expression and explained, "I've learned of how the immortal soul of Ms. LeHane was abducted from Heaven, by Wolfram & Hart. Those unclean monsters..." Bentallo growled, as said act was an affront and an insult to his faith - one that could not and would not be tolerated. "Now please, all of you - hurry!"

Xander and Oz exchanged a glance at Bentallo's statement. And Giles or Buffy, had they been there, would have been struck how the dynamic between Oz and Xander mirrored the long-ago dynamic between Willow and Xander. After a second, they reached an unspoken decision and boarded the plane as Rachael followed them.

**Outside the Manners residence, Los Angeles, California. January 19, 2001**

Kate Lockley made her way up the pathway to the front of the house, a little after midnight. She moved to the side, as some paramedics wheeled out a gurney with a sheet-covered body on it. The blonde woman suddenly looked back at the street, where onlookers and reporters were being held at bay by several uniformed police officers.

With a grimace, Kate then turned around and continued on her way. "How bad is it?" she asked the officer guarding the front door.

"Awful, the wife got it near the door here. The staff and caterers, we found in the main body of the house. The party guests were all killed down in the wine cellar. Looks like the killers locked the doors behind them, and went to town on the poor bastards..."

Kate hurried through the house - noting in passing where the chalk outline was, that indicated where the lady of the house had met her end. She made her way to the stairs, and from there down to the wine cellar.

When the female detective got there, a beehive of activity greeted her as well as various paramedics and police officers. Forensic experts walked around, taking crime scene photographs.

A panicked call to 911 about an hour ago had summoned the police to this residence. The caller had shouted something about being trapped with the murderers in the wine cellar, and the door locked. A young British woman had then terminated the call, screaming some sort of incomprehensible nonsense.

The patrol unit arriving there ten minutes later, had found only a house full of corpses...

Kate cursed to herself under her breath; she knew that this crime scene just screamed out vampires, even if no one would believe her if she told them that. Thus the woman halfway expected to have Angel and maybe some of his sidekicks show up, any moment. She hadn't heard from them for a couple of days...

Lockley also wondered if this was the kind of thing that she should call those Federal agents about. They had been in contact a few times, and she had called them occasionally also. On a hunch the detective made a mental note to call her contact number, once she was done here.

She tentatively stepped into the wine cellar. One of the other detectives noticed her, "Hey. I swear - it's a real mess here, Kate. I don't know if they'll ever be able to get all the bloodstains out of the floor..."

"Do we know how many dead yet, Lew?" Kate asked.

The police lieutenant shook his head. "No clear body count for now. Most of the dead met their maker here in the wine cellar, but we're searching the whole house to find all the victims." The detective leaned over and whispered to Lockley, "Be careful on this one, all right? The brass is watching all of us in here, real carefully. I've already had calls from both the mayor's and Governor's offices..."

Lockley nodded at that. She had heard enough to know that this law firm moved in the highest possible circles. She wondered just how much more trouble could she get into with this case, as she was already skating on thin ice over the zombie police officer situation...

Something which had happened earlier here than in that other world, without Wesley getting shot - but with Angel shutting down the operation, and beating up that police captain dabbling in the black arts.

"Lieutenant, we've got a couple of live ones here!" an officer shouted down from the top of the stairs.

Lockley quickly made her way up the stairs, and followed her fellow cops to the kitchen - where she found a couple of still-breathing lawyers, Lilah Morgan and Lindsey MacDonald. Both of them were shivering and wrapped in blankets. Lockley looked at the officer with a questioning look.

He shrugged in response. "We found them hiding in the meat locker, near the back. It *is* pretty cold in there-"

Kate glanced towards the cold room, and could see the hunks of meat hanging down the length of the freezer. She noted that there were puddles of blood on the floor of the freezer. She glanced again at the officer.

"From what we can gather, Manners regularly entertained guests who like their meat very rare," he said in response to the look.

She turned to the two attorneys. "I'm Detective Kate-"

"Lockley, yes detective - I recognize you. We've met before, right? You've been involved in several cases involving some clients of the firm," Lindsey said.

The lieutenant figured this was his cue to back off, as if Kate knew these people - he'd let her take point on the interrogation. As it was a known fact the witnesses always spoke more freely to someone they knew, instead of some anonymous flatfoot. { Lord knows, we need to find out everything they know- }

"Okay, so you know me. Who are you two?" Kate was a little put off by the Texan's attitude.

"Lilah Morgan, and the one-handed wonder here is Lindsey MacDonald," the woman spoke up with a slight smirk before her counterpart could.

"Okay, Ms. Morgan," Kate's tone was now definitely frosty. She had heard of Lilah through Angel. "What happened here?"

Lilah hesitated for a second. "We were upstairs discussing a case, when we heard Mrs. Manners cry out..."

That was true, of course the case in question involved a certain warrior of the light who was misplaced in time. Lindsey had been trying to get information from Lilah about her project, while at the same time she had been trying to get information from him.

The internal politics of Wolfram & Hart sometimes led to strange situations; but in this case, it had saved both their lives. Because Darla hadn't been here this time around, and Spike would have slaughtered them both with a song in his heart; and since these two still had their important roles to play, it was all just as well.

Lilah went on, "We went to the kitchen, where we found some of the staff. Well, what was left of them..."

"Were you able to see the attackers, or learn who they were?" Kate asked.

Lindsey shook his head. "No, all we heard was a woman's voice yelling. It was in a British accent, if that helps."

Kate nodded, that matched up with the phone call that was now common police knowledge. "What did she say?"

"Oh, something like - Grandmother and Daddy should be here. It's all changed. All changed. It's all their fault. The kitten and witch," Lilah said, half a second before Lindsey could say they hadn't been able to make out the words.

Kate frowned at that, as none of it made sense to her. "Any idea what she meant?"

"No," Lindsey quickly said, lying through his teeth.

"What then?"

"We hid in there. We figured no one would look in the meat locker," Lilah replied, not adding that she had gambled that the meat and accompanying blood would mask their scent from the two rampaging vampires.

The thing was, both Lilah and Lindsey knew perfectly well who was behind the massacre. They just didn't feel like sharing that info with the thin blue line; both attorneys knew the law firm would be dealing with that undead duo, soon enough. "How about the others, in the wine cellar? What happened to them?" Lindsey asked.

"All dead," Kate said in an even tone.

"I see," Lilah commented. {Well, that means there's certainly going to be a big shake-up at work in the morning! Someone's gonna have to take over for Holland.}

**Hyperion Hotel, Los Angeles, California. Six hours later**

Angel walked into his office, looking more tired than someone who was undead should. He sat down behind his desk, and ran his fingers through his hair.

Wesley knocked on the door, as he entered the office. "Any news?" he asked.

Angel shook his head. "No, Spike and Drusilla aren't anywhere to be found. I figured they would be out trying to obtain new minions to attack us with, to be honest. Maybe rounding up some help from Wolfram & Hart-"

"Speaking of which, the news services are reporting that there was a mass murder at Holland Manners' house, earlier tonight. Angel - if it's who I think it is, I more than suspect that those two and Wolfram & Hart have come to a parting of the ways. And Spike must have decided to..."

Angel sighed, or at least appeared to. "It's typical of him, actually. Whenever Spike starts something, he doesn't stop until everything in his path is dead. I remember back in Sunnydale, I warned Giles and the others about that..."

The vampire then noticed the Englishman's confusion. "Before your time, Wes. Anyway, point is, when something goes wrong his motto is to kill everyone he can reach." Angel looked up worriedly for a second. "Did Willow get back safely to the Hellmouth?"

Wesley nodded. "She did. I called Mr. Giles about half an hour ago, and both Willow and Tara arrived back in Sunnydale without incident. Ah, what about Darla? How is she adapting to her...new status?"

"You mean being a vampire with a soul? Well, she hasn't freaked out yet. I think she's focused on finding our two - wayward children - so much, that it hasn't really sunk in completely. Once those two are taken care of, I expect she'll have to face her new status head-on. But for now, she's upstairs in one of the rooms resting. Given how we can't get too much else done, with sunrise so close."

"Of course," Wesley commented. "Gunn's people are looking, and if they hear anything they'll let us know. You might want to contact Ms. Lockley, although from what Gunn tells me with regard to the fallout from the incident with those zombie police officers - that may well be a last-resort scenario. Anything else?"

Angel shook his head. "No, I think we have quite enough to deal with at the present time."

"Quite. Well, I'm going to go out and see what I can find." With that Wesley turned and exited the room. Right before he left the room, his face, unseen by Angel, showed a look of hesitation for a second.

{ No, this isn't the time. I'll talk to him about it later, } Wesley thought as he closed the door behind him.

**Sunnydale, California. An hour later**

Orlando checked his weaponry again. He always kept his weapons in perfect condition, but that came from always checking them carefully, day and night. He knew that the slightest flaw in the weapon could be disastrous in a battle.

Particularly at this time.

Dante and his other brothers had been very diligent in finding out what they could, about the woman they had fought that night in the alley. She clearly had some connection to either Glory, or the Key. General Gregor had ordered the Knights to learn all they could about her. Thus, his orders had been followed to the letter.

The Knights had interrogated many of the undead and demonic citizens of Sunnydale as to her identity. The fact that she was the Slayer was something that worried Orlando. He had ordered his men to be extra cautious, to not be spotted.

That had slowed down the rate at which they could get information, but that couldn't be helped. In any case, they respected her fighting ability. Particularly since most of their information had been gathered from the captives they took, before said captives were...dispatched.

A couple of the other Knights had gone undercover in the neighborhood where the Slayer frequented. They had determined which house she lived in, and more importantly that she had some kind of celebration coming up.

Orlando had decided that this celebration would be a good time to visit the Slayer, and try to learn some information. They might be able to snatch some of her friends, or whatever else was necessary to determine what she really knew.

Orlando looked at the calendar. The date read Friday, January 19th, 2001.

Today was the day the Summers clan would be celebrating the birth of the Buff...

**Los Angeles, California. Later that day**

Xander tentatively made his way down the stairs, into a place he remembered very well from his time in the City of Angels.

Dismissing from his mind the thought that STW must have learned he was missing by now, Harris looked around the bombed-out basement of the building - that at one time had housed, subsequent to his residence there, the offices of Angel Investigations.

Xander took a breath, and started coughing on the dust that was in the air of the cellar. He finished up coughing and grimaced, "Oh yeah, there's no place like home..."

Rachael and the others followed him down the stairs. "Home? Hall, I didn't know you once lived in the Batcave!" the woman joked, as she brushed some of the dust from her clothes.

Xander instantly recalled the man called Allen Francis Doyle visiting him here two years ago, when the Donald Grant soldier persona had been in complete control. The Soldier Guy hadn't thought the joke that the messenger for the Powers had made about the Batcave was funny, not at all. However - Xander was more easygoing, at least in some things. And it didn't hurt that the person making the joke was much better looking than the hard-drinking half-Irish seer...

Suddenly Xander thought, {Can't help wondering - what would this world be like today, if I'd just shot Doyle that night...instead of hearing him out?}

Well, for one thing, it would have upset Jasmine's plans a lot. But the former slave knew nothing about all that - yet - and it was a decent mental exercise, imagining yet another would-have-been world and not having to think of his immediate problems.

As Harris contemplated the possibilities he came to the conclusion that most likely, the Hellmouth in Sunnydale would have remained open that evening, thanks to Jack O'Toole and his buddies killing everyone in the library with that bomb - and a Hell on Earth scenario would apply.

But assuming the world had managed to survive somehow, he wouldn't be the Xander Harris right now that he was today. He would be just another anonymous resident of LA, most likely hooked up with Gunn and his Lost Boys, fighting the things that went bump in the night - and with no knowledge of the shape of things to come...

And *that* meant the First Evil would have been able to manipulate the playing field to its heart's content, without interference.

Bringing himself back to the present, Xander chuckled lightly at Rachael's joke. "Sorry, this is Alfred's week off. If I'd have known we'd be visiting so soon, I would have called him back from vacation early."

Oz walked around the cellar, his wolfish senses faintly picking up the almost-nonexistent smells of Xander having been at this locale before today. And he could tell that it had been a long-term habitation, too. "This was home to you, wasn't it?"

Xander nodded, some of his earlier levity gone now. "Yeah, for a few months - after I got back from that hell dimension. The portal out of there led to LA, ya see, and I made my base camp here till I got sent back to Sunnydale."

Oz raised an eyebrow at Xander's short description, he was sure that there was more to it than just setting up a base camp here. But he held his tongue for now, seeing the expression on his old friend's face.

Bentallo looked around, somewhat appalled. "My son, surely you could have found a better place elsewhere? The Church has many shelters in the city you could have-"

"Monsignor, I know the Catholic Church is doing what it can to help - however, I doubt any shelter run by you guys would have turned a blind eye to what I was doing, during that time! One look at me after one of my missions, and I'm sure LA's finest would have gotten quite a few calls from my hosts," Xander responded. The soldier persona had been quite ruthless in his dealing with demonic threats, and hadn't wanted to be where humans could have been hurt or interfered in his missions.

"So what next? We hang out here till Cleburne shows up? Or do we get pro-active?" Rachael asked. She silently hoped that she could come up with a way to head off Xander's plan, with one that involved less danger. However, she hadn't been able to come up with anything yet, so she was now stalling for time.

"Well, there are a few things to do before we move on to the next phase," Xander said, ignoring the look of distress on Rachael's face when he referred to what was coming as the next phase. He just continued, "I have to be *certain* that Wolfram & Hart can't get the knowledge they want. I know Faith's important and all, but I shudder to think how many people would suffer or die - if they got their hands on the information they're after! So, we have to make...arrangements...to be sure that doesn't happen."

"How about you not going straight into the lion's den? That sounds like a perfectly good way to avoid the danger to me-" Rachael started to say. She wasn't giving up the game anytime soon.

"No, Rachael, I told you - I can't leave Faith there. We get her out, no matter what it takes!" Xander replied. He wasn't budging on that part of the plan, and everyone knew it.

"What did you have in mind?" Oz asked. He knew from personal experience that Xander could be *very* stubborn at times, and he wanted to avoid a fight between the former Scooby and the Israeli secret agent if he could help it.

"Well, I know some people here in Los Angeles who can handle mystical matters, professionally speaking. We need to get in contact with them, and they can take care of the arrangements for me."

"Angel and the others?" Oz asked, as that made sense to him. Xander had told him how Angel was in on the secret from the start, and he further knew that Gwen Raiden was with him now. They could provide support in going up against Wolfram & Hart...

But Xander shook his head. "No, I have someone else in mind. On account of these three ladies pack one helluva mean punch, in the mojo arena..."

**Outside the Caritas Karaoke bar, Los Angeles, California. Half an hour later**

Monsignor Bentallo tugged at the collar of the shirt he was wearing. He felt nervous, both from being dressed in disguise and going to a demon bar. As these were things he had not expected to ever have to do, as part of his duties with the Holy See.

As said, Xander had a plan to contact the Furies. The problem was that both Cleburne and Gunny knew of the girls, and Xander's connection to them. Thus the runaway believed that STW would certainly have their apartment under surveillance, and he couldn't contact them directly.

However, Xander knew that there were others who, when visiting the Furies, would not raise any concerns with any potential agents watching the suite.

The tricky part was contacting them. So Bentallo, being the one least likely to be recognized by any Siberian agents in the city, had ventured forth while the others had stayed in the basement of 1.03.

Bentallo entered the bar, and looked around. A waitress walked by and smiled, "Evening honey, grab a chair and I'll come by to get your order in a sec-"

"I'm looking for Lorne," the holy man said uneasily.

The waitress nodded over to where the lounge demon was working the crowd. So Bentallo walked over to where Lorne was, and sat down on a barstool near his objective.

After a few minutes, the Host noticed Bentallo watching him and turned his attention to the guy. "Hey there, Sinatra junior, how you doing? Haven't seen you around in these here parts before. What can I get you?" Lorne asked.

"Mineral water," Bentallo said simply.

Lorne raised an eyebrow. "Mineral water? Come on! I picture you as a Rat Pack kinda guy. And they don't drink mineral water...lemme guess, you'd love to sing something in homage to the Chairman of the Board? Tonight's a night for the classics, after all..."

Bentallo nodded. He was actually kind of flattered, as he was a big fan of Frank Sinatra's music, but business came first. "Thank you, however my needs are more direct at this time. I was sent to contact you," the Catholic official said, after making sure no one was listening to their conversation.

Lorne's guard immediately went up. "Me? Who would want to contact me, except to plan a party here at my club or something?"

Bentallo shook his sadly. "I'm sorry, but this isn't a party scenario. A man called Alexander Hall sent me, to tell you that he needs your help. And I'm afraid he must insist on your assistance..."

**Los Angeles, California. Shortly before sunset**

Xander paced the floor. He had been pacing ever since Monsignor Bentallo had left for Caritas, and his return had done nothing to stop Xander's progress.

"Hall, if you don't stop walking around in circles like that, you're going to drop from exhaustion before too long!" Rachael commented from the chair where she had been watching the former Scooby.

"I just can't sit here and wait. We should have heard something by now!" He turned to Bentallo. "Lorne said he would do it before sunset?"

Bentallo nodded. "Yes, after I discussed the situation with him, he said he would do as I asked. And the demon promised he would get it done before sunset, as he didn't want to miss the peak hours of activity in his club." In fact Lorne hadn't wanted to help at all at first, but whatever Xander had written in his letter to the Pylean, had persuaded the Host to assist them.

Xander knew that the Furies were the ones who'd taken care of the sanctuary spell in the Host's establishment. So it made sense for Lorne to visit them about the spell, and he wouldn't raise any red flags with anyone watching the apartment. All that the green guy had to do was tell the sisters that Xander needed to talk to them. If they were agreeable, Lorne was then to call Bentallo on the cell phone number he had given the Karaoke bar owner.

"Don't worry. He'll come through. I have every confidence in your ability to judge people...well, demons too," Oz said sympathetically.

But Daniel, like Rachael, was hoping in some way that Lorne did *not* come through. He had been trying, subtly but clearly, to divert Xander from his plan - even if he'd had the same lack of success that Rachael had. Of course, Xander hadn't lost his temper with Oz the way he had with the Israeli woman in Richmond...

The funny thing was Xander held no illusions as to Oz's motivations for trying to talk him out of this idea. He knew the werewolf wasn't afraid of losing a potential intelligence source for his country; the guy was worried about a friend getting himself killed.

"What if he doesn't call or can't get to them? What then?" Rachael asked. Despite what Xander thought, she too was concerned about his safety and welfare.

"Mmmm, Alexander..." a trio of voices with a dreamy quality said.

Xander's head twisted around, to see the Transuding Furies standing about five feet away from him. He then realized he was no longer in the condemned basement, but in the Furies' apartment suite.

After all these years and with all the memories in his head, the teleportation spell or whatever didn't faze Xander at all. Oz didn't really react either, beyond raising an eyebrow, and that was only to be expected. But Lorne was standing near the door, with a look of amazement on his face. Bentallo looked around in wonder, barely suppressing the urge to cross himself.

Somewhat tellingly, of all those present only Rachael jumped in shock. "What the hell!?" she shouted out.

Xander motioned at her to calm down. "Don't worry, they're the people we need to see-"

"What!?" Rachael cried out again. "Look around you, pal - we're not where we were a few seconds ago!" She glanced around, the setting sun was visible from the patio door leading to the balcony. "Last time I checked, that cellar of yours did not have a view of Los Angeles skyline!"

"I know it's unnerving-" Xander again started to try and calm her.

"Unnerving? Unnerving? It's downright freaky! We didn't walk, we didn't drive, we didn't fly. We simply showed up here! What just happened - it goes against all known laws of God and man! And you're not bothered by this?"

"We do not abide by-"

"-your limited perceptions-"

"-of this amazing universe," The Furies said in succession, freaking out Rachael even more. She stood there, open-mouthed and looked at them.

At that moment Lorne spoke up. "Boys and girls, it's been a blast. Mr. Hall, not that I'm not happy to see you again, but I need to get back to my club. I'll meet you later, to complete my part in all this. And by the way, honeybun, thanks heaps for the tip!" With that, the empath demon exited the suite.

"Tip?" Oz said, looking at Xander.

"Nothing from the future, I just wrote in the letter that it seemed to me that the spell preventing demon violence in Caritas? It might not stop human-caused violence - and that he might want to look into that. I also made a few other suggestions, on how to make sure no violence from outside would spill over into his bar."

Xander turned his attention to the three Furies, that had moved closer to him during the conversation - in that gliding way that they all used, in order to move. The women had a look on their faces that left no doubt in Xander's thoughts, what was on their minds.

"Ladies, really great to see you all again-"

"Yeah, I'm sure!" Rachael interrupted him. She had eyes too, and disliked the sisters at first sight - on general principles.

Xander continued on, ignoring her rudeness. "Girls, I need your help. A situation has developed, and I...need to do some things that require your unique brand of abilities." Harris then proceeded to describe to them the threat from Wolfram & Hart, and his plan to deal with it. "Look, bottom line, I really need the assist here. I can't afford for my plan to blow up in my face, and let those demons-slash-lawyers get what they want..."

The three Furies looked at each other. Their body language indicated a conversation, but they made no sound. Suddenly, the eldest of the three spoke. "Yes, it is foolhardy. And it is also reckless. But what he seeks to do is noble and worthy, to rescue a lost soul."

The other two looked at her and nodded. She then moved to a chest in the room. The first Fury quickly took out two stones, and went to Xander. She handed one to him, keeping the other. The stones then instantly lit up, when Xander took the rock in his hand. He looked questioningly at the women.

The Furies then said in turn, "They're called Soul Stones. As long as you are alive, the stones will shine."

"Now that the stones have imprinted your soul's aura upon themselves, they will reflect that your soul is earthbound."

"But if you die, they will go dark once more."

The Furies paused for a second; behind them, Xander could see Rachael getting red-faced. {Just great, Guess I should have convinced her somehow to simply stay in Washington}

"If the stones go dark, we will be able to summon your essence into an Orb of Thesulah, before Wolfram & Hart is able to do so. This will prevent your knowledge from becoming known to those you don't want it to," the Asian Fury spoke up.

Xander nodded, looking concerned. "That's good. If the lawyers kill me to interrogate my soul, that'll put the kibosh on their plans. However...that may not be enough." Xander suspected, and the Soldier Guy agreed, that the lawyers might decide that interrogating a soul without a body was much easier than, say, questioning someone always trying to escape.

"What?" Bentallo demanded, as he heard the young man say those words. "How can that be?"

"Easy," Xander said, then he looked at the three sisters. "Wolfram & Hart apparently has lots of resources, they could very well figure out your involvement. And then they'll come after you. They'll most likely sacrifice as many demons as it takes to get to my soul, after all - look at all the trouble they went through just to get to me, in the first place! You're powerful, but not all-powerful. So if it pans out that way, you gotta be prepared. You three need to be prepared to...utterly destroy my soul."

Harris looked hard at the Furies, completely ignoring the clamor from his companions. "Can you do that?"

The Furies looked horrified. They stared at each other, and then they turned towards Xander - with something close to a look of shame on their faces. "It is possible. There is a spell involving a living flame-"

"-and the Breath of Entropics. It would destroy a soul-"

"-beyond the power of almost all entities to resurrect," the Furies chorused.

Xander raised an eyebrow. "*Almost* all?"

The eldest Fury answered him. "Any entity able to reverse this spell - would not need your soul to know what lies ahead, in the first place."

"However - it still goes against everything we believe in," the second Fury added.

"What you ask - is almost impossible for us to countenance," the youngest sister finished up.

"I hate to suggest this," Oz spoke up. "But what if they torture you enough, that you crack under the interrogation? Not kill you, but make you do anything necessary to end the pain?"

Xander turned his attention from the Furies to his friend, snorting dismissively as he did so. "Not wanting to blown my own trumpet here, and this is something no one likes bragging about - but I *seriously* doubt that those lawyers, or their demon buddies, could do anything to me that would accomplish that. Never gonna happen."

The others gave him looks that clearly said they had trouble believing this. Rachael spoke up, "Hall, believe me, everyone has their breaking point. The human body can only take so much pain-" 

Xander took a breath and responded, "I know I've been sketchy on the details of my time there, and I know it sounds pretty cocky, but the hell dimension and Ken made me able to withstand anything these people might throw at me. It's the truth, pure and simple - I survived 5 years of Ken's attention, plus I survived the emotional turmoil that was my life in the previous history..."

"My son-" Bentallo started up.

"No, Monsignor, it's not a consideration. That's just a fact, after all - how many people have had a wakeup call, that was a demon trying to set them on fire?" Xander declared.

The sisters then spoke up, interrupting Xander's companions' attempt to dissuade him from doing this. "There is still the-"

"-matter of payment for-"

"-our services to be discussed," the Furies said.

Xander looked at the Furies. The others looked on in puzzlement, as they were unaware of what his payment had been last time - when the Furies had helped out on the raid into the demon dimension, to retrieve the human slaves there.

"I understand. And, uh, I imagine you'll be wanting payment in advance - considering what I'm about to do, huh?" Harris sighed.

"Payment?" Oz asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, ol' buddy, there's no such thing as a free lunch," Xander commented. "Well - you guys probably don't want to stick around for this part of it. And since you can't exactly walk out the door, the sisters can transport you back-"

But then the young man was surprised when the girls shook their heads, "No, Alexander. This time-"

"-we require more. Your body-"

"-is not enough," the three women said.

"Body? What do they mean by, 'your body'?" Rachael asked, actually finding to her amazement that she could get angrier at this situation than she'd thought - as the implications of the comment by the Furies set in.

Xander frowned, ignoring her. "What else can I give you? After all, you girls aren't exactly into money..."

"Your seed," the eldest Fury said calmly.

Xander continued frowning, and then his eyes went huge - as he *finally* processed what had just been said. "My seed? My seed!?" Harris demanded, his voice rising. "You mean - you want to have my..."

"Your blood is uniquely blessed, from drinking the water within that holy cup. You have a destiny to fulfill."

"Even if we do not know what that destiny is, we know it is vitally important to this world."

"If you die beyond all hope of resurrection, disaster is certain," the Furies rhymed.

"And how would you girls having my seed prevent that?" Xander asked. He didn't notice Rachael edging closer to him.

"If you succeed in your objective-"

"-retrieving the soul of your fellow warrior, you donation-"

"-will not be allowed to develop. It will be as if it never happened," the Furies explained.

"And if I don't come back?" Xander asked grimly, already halfway knowing the answer.

"Your three sons will be born-"

"-and cared for. When they grow up-"

"-one of them will take over for you, in the destiny you have been chosen for," the Furies answered.

Rachael spoke up, now white as a sheet, "You're all crazy, or joking. Or both! I don't care which!" Even though the woman wouldn't admit to herself, more than a little jealousy was prominent in her reaction to this situation.

"I don't think so, for any of the three choices," Oz said in his Yoda-like manner. As always, he was exhibiting a serene presence that the others present couldn't hope to match.

Xander just stood there, saying nothing. For a full minute, he appeared to think about it, and all the ramifications.

But Rachael had had enough of this, and she grabbed the man's arm to drag him out of the suite. By this time, all she was thinking about was getting her so-called assignment away from these nut cases - not caring anymore about who might be watching the apartment.

But Xander easily batted away Rachael's hand, without breaking his stare at the Furies. Ignoring the Israeli's look of stunned hurt, Harris said quietly to the sisters, "I want your word of honor, your pledge, your most sacred holy vow that if I agree to your terms - you'll take good care of my kids. Give them as normal a life as possible, until they're old enough to make their own decisions. And that it'll be up to *them*, to decide how to fulfill their own destiny."

Rachael looked on in complete disbelief at the former Scooby, as the Furies nodded in unison to his request. "We swear by our powers that we will do so. We will honor your request to the letter, if the need arises," the eldest Fury spoke for the group.

Xander nodded, taking a deep breath at the enormity of his actions. "Then I guess...we have ourselves a deal. So, uh - it'd be best if you transport the others back to where we just came from-"

"Now wait a minute, if you think for a moment I'm going along with this-" Rachael started, only to be interrupted by Xander.

"Rachael."

"No, damn it! Have you completely lost your mind? Enough's enough, I'm not putting up with this crap any longer. I'm putting my foot dow-" She stopped, as the brunette felt Oz take hold of her arm.

"Come on. We're leaving," the werewolf said with some force.

"No way, I'm not going!" Rachael snapped back, having lost almost all semblance of reason.

Oz's eyes flashed black, and fangs were suddenly visible in his mouth. "It's his play, Rachael. And we're backing it."

This outer display of his inner wolf was enough to quiet the Jewish woman down, and get her to cooperate. She allowed Oz to move her away from Xander and the Furies, towards where Monsignor Bentallo was.

The eldest Fury spoke soothingly to Ms. Weitz, "Do not give up hope for Alexander's survival. He is special. The destiny we speak of - truly belongs to him." As she finished saying that, Xander's companions shimmered out of existence - and found themselves back in the cellar, that had once been la casa del Soldier Guy.

**Later that evening**

Xander walked down the street. And Lorne walked alongside him, in disguise of course - a hat and sunglasses covering up his horns and eyes.

Soon enough, Xander had fulfilled what the Furies had requested of him. And one of the Soul Stones was now the constant companion of the Furies, so they could monitor Xander's status.

Strange as it was to contemplate, they were now also the potential mothers of Xander's children. And after the deal had been 'finalized', the Furies had transported Harris back to his friends in that dark basement.

Rachael had been angry at what had transpired, and she had certainly let everyone know that. Even though technically it wasn't really her place to say so, basically logic had no place in her rants anymore - and she had torn into Xander, using everything she could think of to convince to give up his insane plan. The spy was now definitely sorry she'd had anything to do with getting Xander to Los Angeles...

But Rachael hadn't been successful, and finally had stormed out of the cellar. And unknown to Xander - she intended to contact the Siberians as soon as she could, to stop the plan in its tracks.

Immediately after she'd left though, Harris had finalized the plans with Oz and Bentallo. And after a hasty goodbye, Xander had departed to meet up with Lorne - who would take him to the law firm's building, in the quickest and most secure way possible these days.

The Host, striding along next to his companion, hurried his pace to keep up. "Well now, you're anxious - aren't you?" the demon asked.

"I just want to get this over with," Xander replied simply.

Lorne could sense Xander had recently had sex, and he could also easily guess as to who with. "All I gotta say, studmuffin, is keep your pants on. You *did* just get them back on, after all..."

Xander sent a sideways look at the Host. And the singing demon hastily added, "Whoa there, lover boy, just joking around with you! You seem pretty antsy, is all."

"Yeah, I know, but life or death situations *do* tend to put a person on edge," Xander replied.

"Hey, tell me about it. Business always goes down at Caritas, when something like that comes up!" Lorne replied.

Unknown to either of them at that moment, two blocks away, Rachael was talking into a cell phone with Esther Marcum. The Israeli secret agent was learning to her horror, that Cleburne was out of the country - and therefore the email to him had not yet been read.

The Siberians knew that the Timetripper was missing, of course, and a Black Alert had been sent out; but they were unaware of just what Xander was planning, and thus no commando teams were here in LA, and ready to go in after him.

There was no time left to lose. The female spy hung up in a panic, and started running towards the Wolfram & Hart building.

Which was where Xander and Lorne had just arrived.

"Well, here you go Mr. Hall. Bad vibes Central, live and in person. I don't know why the hell anyone would want to go in there voluntarily," Lorne looked around nervously.

"Not quite voluntary here," Xander said musingly. "Thanks, Lorne. And if I don't see you again - live long and prosper..." He grinned at how the old geek-speak had just slipped out, and then grasped the demon's hand in gratitude. Something that a relatively short while ago, Harris wouldn't even have considered doing - never in a million years.

Lorne half-smiled, not sure how to respond. He took off his sunglasses, "Hey kid, don't worry. You'll come through fine, I'm sure. Betcha you'll be belting out show tunes at Caritas again, in no time..."

Xander just smiled, and turned around to walk towards the entrance of the law firm. Lorne turned around as well and started walking away, but as he did so - Xander started to hum the Battle Hymn of the Republic, to psych himself up for what lay ahead.

Instantly Lorne whirled around, his eyes widening in sheer horror and disbelief. "No-!" he choked out in a terrified whisper.

Behind him, Rachael turned the corner at the end of the street and screamed in horror and frustration - as she watched Xander walk through the front doors of Wolfram & Hart.

TBC...


End file.
